


Fearless

by koto



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Another Taylor Swift Inspired Fic, Boys Kissing, Childhood Friends, Coming of Age, Confessions, Dirty Jokes, Failed Plans, Feelings Realization, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Prom, Sharing a Bed, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 18:21:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 36,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29905188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koto/pseuds/koto
Summary: Jisung blinks at the screen and replays the card, trying to make sure he’s reading it right and the eye strain from the animation isn’t tricking his mind. No, it’s definitely a promposal. Via e-card. From his childhood best friend, who is very much a university student at JYP University several hundred miles away. 340 miles to be exact. It’s Jisung’s dream school too, he’s required to know things like that.So how and why is Minho planning to bring him to the prom of a high school he does not actually attend?
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know, Hwang Hyunjin/Yang Jeongin | I.N, Kim Seungmin/Lee Felix
Comments: 66
Kudos: 233
Collections: MINSUNG BINGO: Round Two





	1. Head First

**Author's Note:**

> Y'all I am finally back with a fic that has some semblance of substance! Woo!  
> It took me so long to write this, and I'm so far removed from high school that I can only hope this is relatable, but I really hope you enjoy it! I was listening to Fearless by Taylor Swift, as one should do every so often, and imagined minsung dancing in the rain and simply had to plot out an entire convoluted fic about it. 
> 
> Chapter 2 will be up in a few hours!
> 
> This is also fulfilling two spaces for minsung bingo:  
> High School Au  
> Free Space (sharing a bed)
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

**42 Days Before Prom**

* * *

It starts with an email.

Well, that’s not entirely true. If you want to be technical about it, maybe the story starts the day Jisung is born. Or maybe the day Minho is. Or perhaps you could even go back to when Minho’s parents moved into a little yellow house on Cherry Street and Jisung’s father and very pregnant mother moved into the big red brick one next door. Jisung’s brother was born shortly after that, and when Minho’s mother got pregnant with him a year later she turned to her neighbor for advice on being a new mom. Two years after Minho popped out, Jisung was brought into the world. They’ve known each other since he was three days new. So really, sure, maybe it starts on September 17th of that year. But the turning point, the start of something new, that happens on April 21st 18 years later, a month and a half before Jisung’s senior prom, and it comes in the form of an email of all things.

It looks innocent when Jisung sees it in his inbox. An email from Minho’s school account with a rather vague subject:

From: leeminho1025@jyp.edu Subject: Someone has sent you an e-card!

An e-card? There’s nothing wrong with an e-card, per se, except for the fact that they lost popularity about eight years ago and it would be ten times easier for Minho to just text him whatever he needs to say. Or facetime him. Or snapchat him. Tweet at him. All things they have done on a regular basis in the two years Minho has been away at school. Jisung scrolls over to the email, jiggling his finger on the worn-out trackpad of his laptop to bring it back to the realm of reality (it tends to stray south when untouched for a while) before opening up the virtual card.  
It starts out with a flower bud, tiny and alone against a sky blue background. White font starts scrolling across the screen as it begins to sprout. Jisung. The petals grow until the flower is fully formed into a daisy, which then triggers about a thousand more to pop up across the screen until some more lettering appears. Will you go to prom with me?

Jisung blinks at the screen and replays the card, trying to make sure he’s reading it right and the eye strain from the animation isn’t tricking his mind. No, it’s definitely a promposal. Via e-card. From his childhood best friend, who is very much a university student at JYP University several hundred miles away. 340 miles to be exact. It’s Jisung’s dream school too, he’s required to know things like that.

So how and why is Minho planning to bring him to the prom of a high school he does not actually attend? Had Jisung even mentioned anything about it? He doesn’t think so, at least not to Minho. According to his laptop it’s 5:06 pm, which means Minho should be out of classes, and it’s Wednesday, which means he’s off work. Jisung digs his cell out of his backpack, noticing that since he last checked it back at school a few hours ago his message alerts have gone from zero to an alarming 6 from various sources. There are two from Minho, one from his mom, one from Seungmin, and two from Felix. He checks Minho’s first.

**Minho (3:45 pm):** Hey  
 **Minho (4:30 pm):** Anything happen today?

Jisung has way too many questions to talk this out over text. He pushes away from his desk and moves from his chair to the bed, laying down and holding the phone overhead before dialing Minho on facetime. It rings a few times before his face pops up on screen, a little blurry and bouncy.

“Hey,” Jisung greets, bringing his phone closer and squinting at the screen. Minho seems to be walking, and there’s greenery in the background. “Can you talk?”

“Hey Sungie. I’m walking back to my apartment, it might be loud but I can talk. Here’s Chan,” he says, pointing the camera away from him for a moment to show off his roommate. Jisung barely gets a glimpse of bleach blonde hair and the beginning of a wave before Minho directs it back to himself.

“I can wait til you’re alone.”

“No, it’s fine. He has headphones in. What’s up?”

What’s up?

“I got your email,” Jisung starts, hoping Minho will fill in the blanks.

“Oh? Did you like it?”

“Minho, why are you asking me to my own prom?”

“Because you want to go, right?” Minho asks. Like it’s the simplest answer in the world.

“I- I wasn’t going to, actually,” Jisung admits. He hadn’t gone last year because he hadn’t had a date, and this year has panned out much the same until now.

“But that’s not what I asked. You do want to go, I know you do. But a little birdy told me you might be skipping again,” Minho says with a teasing tone. Ah. He’s been ratted out.

“And who might that little birdy be?”

“I think he went by the name of Hyunjin?”

Jisung makes a note to give his best friend (best friend aside from Minho) a piece of his mind later. “I see.”

“You’re skipping just because you don’t have a date, and that, my dear friend, is fucking stupid.”

Jisung pulls his hood over his head in shame, trying to hide his face from seemingly all-knowing eyes. “Is that what Hyunjin told you?”

“He said you might not go, and when I asked he said he didn’t think anyone had invited you. I put two and two together.”

“Ah.” Jisung sighs. The hood hadn’t disguised a damn thing. “Well, sue me. I don’t want to go alone.”

Minho is quiet for a moment, nothing but the sound of a phone shuffling and the jingle of keys being pulled out of his pocket coming from the speaker. Jisung can’t see the screen in his current setup, but he seems to have arrived at his complex. When Jisung hears the sound of an elevator ding once more, Minho starts his speech back up.

“That’s a crazy coincidence, because I happened to love my proms and this is a great excuse to give it one more shot.”

“Minho,” Jisung laughs, finally picking his hood back up to see if his friend’s face is more convincing than his voice (no). “You hated your senior prom. You left your date early and came to hang out in my basement.”

“She was mad.”

“She was pissed,” Jisung giggles, recalling the memory. It’s a little bit hazy, Minho had initially intended to go to an after-party and brought a flask to prepare himself, but Jisung distinctly remembers his neighbor knocking on the door in a tuxedo while he himself donned a pair of sweats stained with cheeto dust and a shirt two sizes too large. The jacket and pants had quickly been stripped off, leaving Minho in boxers and a dress shirt to lounge around and play fighting games in Jisung’s basement as they mixed bottom shelf rum with a 2 liter of cola and gobbled down an entire extra large pizza. Minho’s date called so many times that he eventually just turned his phone off.

“I won’t leave you, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Minho snickers with a little wink. “You’d be doing me a favor by giving me a redo with a better date.”

Jisung bites his lip in contemplation, wondering if he should take the offer. It actually sounds like a good deal, he knows he’ll have fun with Minho, it’s just… isn’t it a little pathetic? “Aren’t you busy with school?”

“All I have to do is drive down for the weekend. I don’t even have Friday classes, you know that. Come on Sungie, just let me take you to prom. You know you want to.”

He kind of does. Even if it means the school knowing he couldn’t actually score a date his own age (or one that he hasn’t known since he was in diapers), he still wants the experience. If it sucks, Minho is well-versed in dipping out early. “Fine.”

“Excuse me?”

“Alright?”

“Alright what? Is that a yes? I sent a formal invite, I’d like a formal response.”

“Yes, I would love to go to prom with you,” Jisung deadpans, though he’s sure a smile is peeking through the face he’s trying to keep serious. “Would you like me to answer the email back as well?”

Minho cheers and pumps a fist in the air, loudly enough that Jisung is almost certain his neighbors can hear, but he doesn’t seem to care. “Woohoo! I’ve got a prom date! You’d better dress nice, if I’m at my old stomping grounds I refuse to show up with me and my date looking anything less than perfect. No need on the email, by the way.”

“Noted and noted.”

Minho looks so nice like this, smile wide and eyes scrunched up in excitement like they always have since he was young. It brings back a lifetime of memories together, laughing over nonsense that was hysterical to them and them alone.

Ah. Jisung really misses him.

“Sungie? You there?”

“I’m here,” Jisung says, realizing he must have spaced out for a moment. “Sorry, what?”

“I asked if you got your letter from JYP yet?” Minho asks, tone a little more serious than before.

“I’d tell you if I did, you know that,” Jisung says quietly. “Nothing since the waitlist notice.”

Minho looks at him sympathetically, a sad glint in his eye. Jisung hates it. “You’ll get in. My roommate-”

“I know, your roommate freshman year was waitlisted and he got in. I’ve met Changbin, remember?”

“Yeah, I remember.”

There’s silence for a moment, and Jisung finds himself regretting cutting Minho off. He was really just trying to be nice. “He was a smart guy. I’m a smart guy too, so I’ll get in. No worries.”

Minho smiles fondly at that. “No worries. What are you doing with the rest of your night?”

Jisung rolls off his bed to get his backpack and look through his half-filled-out planner, walking Minho through his upcoming work step by step. He’s not sure if Minho is fully paying attention, but he cracks jokes and provides commentary when Jisung veers off topic, which is all he can really ask. They swap roles shortly after, only cut off when Jisung’s father calls him down from his room for dinner. As per usual their quick little call seems to turn into a three hour facetime session. It’s been like that for two years now.

He wouldn’t have it any other way.

* * *

  
**41 Days Before Prom**

“So, Felix, do you happen to have your suit for prom yet?”

Jisung’s friend looks up from his school-distributed chicken nuggets at the sudden question. He and Jisung typically eat with a few other friends, but Seungmin and Jeongin have student council duties on Thursdays and Hyunjin is out sick. It’s a shame, because Jisung still needs to reprimand him from spilling his sob story to Minho.

“I was just going to wear the same suit I wore last year. Maybe a new shirt and tie,” he says, looking up in contemplation. “Or maybe a bowtie this year?”

“Ooh, a bowtie sounds fun. I wonder if I should wear a bowtie?” Jisung says, hoping Felix picks up the hint.

“Yeah, they’re cute, I think. I don’t know why ties became the standard, bowties are just so charming. Makes you look like you could own a candy shop or something.”

Hint not taken.

“Yeah,” Jisung tries again. “Yeah, I just don’t have a suit yet, so I guess I should do that first so I can match them? Or can I do it reverse? Seems more complicated, right?”

“Definitely seems more complicated. Suits are usually more basic and… wait, why do you need a suit?” Felix asks, putting his fork down and perching his chin on his hands. “What did I miss?”

Success. Jisung smiles smugly, trying to put on an air of mystery as he looks around the room with what he hopes is an expression of nonchalance. “Oh, things have changed a bit. I’ll be going to prom now.”

“Alone?”

“No!” Jisung says, snapping back to look at his friend in offence. Felix is smiling just as smugly as he was a moment ago. Clearly he knew that would push a button. “No,” Jisung repeats after clearing his throat, “I’m not going alone. Someone asked me. I’m quite popular, you know.”

“Yes you are. Who’s the lucky lad or lady?”

“Oh,” Jisung starts, stopping himself before finishing the sentence. Does he really want to reveal that it’s Minho? Minho, who they all know to be his very platonic childhood friend of eighteen years? “It’s a secret. You’ll have to wait to see on prom night.”

“Why? Who could it possibly be? Everyone we know is already taken,” Felix says, mouth now full of chicken nuggets once again. Jisung watches in distaste as his friend talks and chews at the same time, but laughs when he seems to notice his mistake and uses a tiny hand to cover his mouth.

“Yeah, even you, shockingly.”

“It’s not shocking at all. I have the same date as last year, Seungmin is a lovely escort,” Felix says, defending his date.

“Well, he certainly needs your dancing guidance.”

“And I’m perfectly happy to provide it.”

“And I’m happy you two came to that compromise. Though I think you should make a real move this year,” Jisung says. Felix smiles a little at that, almost like he already has something in mind. He should, those two have been dancing around acknowledging their since… well, since last year this time when Felix planned a lovely promposal spelling out the question in icing over a pan of homemade brownies and Seungmin failed to realize it as a genuinely romantic act.

“I’m working on it. Wait, but who the hell is your date though? Seriously? Do I know them?”

“He’s a lovely person, he is a he, and you do know him. I’ll have to leave it at that.”

“Fine. You’ll crack sooner or later and tell me, you’ve got a blabbermouth,” Felix says. Jisung wants to contest but the bell rings before he has the chance. Felix stands to clear his tray, but pauses before walking away; “If you do want to go suit shopping though, I’m down. Maybe Saturday?”

“Saturday is good for me,” Jisung confirms. Felix gives a smile and a wave before dashing away to get to his third floor class on time. Luckily, Jisung’s is right around the corner. He takes his time putting things away carefully, thinking once again about how distant and disconnected this scenario seems.

Saturday. Saturday he’ll have a suit, something tangible to hold and remind him of prom. Of the end of the school year, the end of his high school career, of when “never been to prom” Jisung will disappear and “went to prom” Jisung becomes a reality. They’re meaningless labels, really, but in a world filled with uncertainty he’s willing to grasp at any strings he can find. Even if they are just the threads of a tacky suit he’ll probably never touch again.

* * *

  
**39 Days Before Prom**

“I don’t understand why I’m here, I already have my suit,” Hyunjin whines (not for the first time) as he, Jisung, and Felix sort through the formalwear at a discounted suit warehouse.

“Because, you ratted on me to Minho,” Jisung says quietly, still fingering through the hangers of a rounded rack as he looks for the perfect tux. “Spilled some business that wasn’t yours to spill. If you want to be so involved in my prom activities, the least you can do is help find me a good tux. One with-”

“Yeah, I get it, slim fit legs and a single button jacket. You’ve already said it ten times,” Hyunjin groans. “And for the record, I only said that because I was under the impression you didn’t have any prom activities. If I knew you’d magically get asked and be a giant pain in the ass about it, I’d have kept my mouth shut.”

Felix taps on Jisung’s shoulder and holds up a suit when he gets his attention. “What about this style?”

“Hmm” Jisung hums, taking a look. It’s a nice pair of pants, but it’s really more of a straight leg and looks like it’d need a lot of hemming.

“They’re too tall for him, Lix. You think he’s got enough leg for all that fabric?”

“Shut it, Hyunjin,” Jisung snaps. He’s right, though. If you’d asked Jisung what he knew about suits two days ago, the answer would have been close to nothing. But now, after spending an embarrassing amount of time filtering through prom-wear inspired Pinterest boards, he has a very clear vision in mind. Hyunjin and Felix don’t need to know that, though, so he’d stuck to the simple description Hyunjin had recited. “He’s kind of not wrong though, Lix. It’s a nice pair of pants, it’s just not my pair of pants.”

“Got it. Slimmer, shorter leg.”

“Yep,” Jisung confirms before browsing through his own rack again. Hyunjin has finally started to look, and through the corner of his eye Jisung can see him pulling out a few pairs of pants and hanging them on his forearm before switching to a jacket rack. This store is nice in all the options it has and the price point it offers, but everything is mix and match and it’s on them to find things of the same fabric. He pulls a few pants himself before switching to a nearby jacket rack and finding a few good options.

After far too long on the sales floor and the discovery that Hyunjin has an eye for formal wear that Felix simply does not, Jisung shuffles to the fitting rooms with one arm full of pants and the other full of jackets. When he hangs them all up, he starts to think maybe he doesn’t have it either.

“I- shit, this is a lot of stuff,” he mumbles to himself.

“Yeah, no shit. That’s what you asked for,” Jisung hears from the other side of the fitting room door. Hyunjin has opted to sit there and act as the tux appraiser instead of joining Felix in the accessories department. Jisung doesn’t answer, just continues staring at nearly identical black fabrics until his friend speaks up again. “Are you good, though?”

“I can’t tell what matches.”

“Seriously?”

“I’ll figure it out, though,” Jisung says, starting to peel off his pants and get to trying on. After a few moments of silence there’s a knock on the door.

“Let me in.”

“What? No, I’m half naked. Just wait and tell me yes or no,” Jisung says, reaching for a pair of pants and a dress shirt and pulling them on. Before he can even attempt to look for a jacket Hyunjin knocks again. “Just wait!”

“No, you’re dressed now, I can tell through the crack in the door-”

“Stop peeping at me you pervert! I already have a prom date!”

“And I have a boyfriend. Jisung, shut up and open the door. Let me help you out, ok? I don’t want to be here all day. Isn’t that why you dragged me here?”

He’s right. Jisung cracks the door open and lets Hyunjin slip inside the dressing room, holding his arms out to let his friend inspect the outfit so far. “Fine. Rate me.”

“Five on the pants. They don’t fit you right. Nine on the shirt. But hang on a second, let me just match everything for you,” Hyunjin says, barely glancing at the half-getup before getting to work. He makes pairings out of matching fabrics easily, clearly possessing more of an eye for details and differentiating between different shades of black. “So you’re keeping your date a secret, why again?” he asks, barely looking up from his task.

“More fun that way,” Jisung says, looking at himself in the mirror. Hyunjin is right, the pants fit at the waist but are loose in the thighs and go a little past his heels when they should end at the ankle. He starts to strip them off before continuing, not actually bothered at the idea of Hyunjin seeing him in boxers. Though Minho will always be the friend he’s had the longest, Hyunjin is only four years behind. Fourteen years of friendship doesn’t leave much room for secrets.

“It isn’t Minho?” he asks, making Jisung snap to look at him. “Try this on. Keep the shirt you have on.” Hyunjin thrusts a suit into Jisung’s hands and takes a seat on the dressing room bench. Luckily they’re in a pretty big stall.

“Why would you ask that?”

“Just seems like weird timing. Nice boxers,” Hyunjin says, poking Jisung’s thigh as he shimmies a newer, tighter pair of pants up his legs. The boxers in question were a gift from his grandma, decorated with little log cabins and pine trees. He doesn’t wear them when he thinks he’ll be seen.

“Well, that’s a rude implication. As if nobody in school or nobody my age would want to ask me to the dance.”

“That’s not what I said at all. My date’s from another grade, if you’ll recall. Nothing to be ashamed of,” Hyunjin says. Ah yes, it had been quite the scandal for Hwang Hyunjin, the pride beauty and rumored slacker of the senior class, had asked Yang Jeongin out. It’s not just the age difference, Jeongin is on the student council and Hyunjin skips class on a somewhat regular basis. It’s not as if he’s an actual slacker though, anyone who knows him well knows he gets migraines and his absences are excused. Why he doesn’t make that public Jisung will never know, but his boyfriend seems to understand. Jeongin isn’t the little angel the school makes him out to be either, though. He’s got enough spunk to keep Hyunjin on his toes. They fit surprisingly well together.

At least until the end of the year.

“Are these better?” Jisung asks, spinning around when he gets his shirt tucked into the new pants.

“Loads better. Put the jacket on too,” Hyunjin says, motioning towards it. Jisung does as instructed and spins again, then admires his reflection. “It’s a good tux.”

“It is a good tux,” Jisung agrees. The fit is nice, the material is pretty. He looks like a person nearly ready to go to prom.

“But there’s five more you should try on.”

“Dear god.”

“This is why you brought me,” Hyunjin says, framing his face and smiling big. Jisung starts to change again, though the next two suits get dismissed. When he pulls on the fourth option total with a new shirt, Hyunjin pulls out his phone and holds it up. “That’s got to be the one. I don’t say this often, but you look hot.”

“I do look hot,” Jisung says, spinning around and admiring himself. He pauses with his back facing the tri-fold mirror, checking out his ass, when he hears the telling snaps of a phone camera. “Hey, you’ve got your own date to check out. Why the pictures?”

“To send to Minho. He should see you like a grown adult for once.”

“No! No pictures to Minho,” Jisung says, scrambling to grab Hyunjin’s phone and delete the evidence. He knows it’s not a wedding day or whatever, but he’d still like to wow his date in person rather than spoil it through a shitty cell phone photo.

“Why?”

“Because it’s not necessary. He’s busy, anyways. You’ll distract him,” Jisung says defensively.

“Bullshit, it’s Saturday. And as previously stated, you look hot. Since when do you not like to show off? Especially to him?” Hyunjin asks, prying his phone from Jisung’s hands.

“Everyone can see the tuxedo on the day I wear the tuxedo. No sooner. Got it?”

“But he won’t see it, he’s at school,” Hyunjin says with a coy smile. Shit. Jisung didn’t think that sentence through all the way. “Unless he’s the one taking you.”

“Hyunjin, please,” Jisung says, not quite ready to fully admit defeat.

“Please? Hyunjin please what?”

“Hyunjin please don’t tell anyone,” Jisung mumbles.

“Hyunjin please don’t tell anyone what?” he prods.

“Hyunjin, please keep your fat mouth closed and don’t tell anyone that Minho is the one taking me to prom.”

“I knew it. I’m so damn smart. I knew it as soon as you told me you had a date,” Hyunjin says, puffing out his chest in pride. “Though I don’t get why it’s a secret.”

“Because, it isn’t real. It’s like a pity date. Everyone is gonna notice that when we get there, but I can at least build the excitement a little, right?”

“I’m sure he doesn’t pity you, you’re like his favorite person in the world,” Hyunjin sighs. His face is very clearly telling Jisung that he doesn’t believe his bullshit, and that he knows Jisung doesn’t believe his own bullshit either. It’s hard not to shrink under that kind of gaze.

“Fine, not a pity date per se, but you know what I mean. It’s not romantic.”

“It’s whatever you make it,” Hyunjin says, a playful glint in his eye. Huh?

“I have no idea what that means,” Jisung says. He doesn’t. Not a clue, not at all.

“It means I saw the way you looked at him all last summer. Everyone did.”

“You should get your eyes checked. You’ve got a speck of dirt under that one, maybe there’s crud messing up your vision,” Jisung says, pointing at a mole under his left eye. “I looked at him like a best friend I hadn’t seen in a year.”

“Like a best friend who got hot.”

“He’s always been attractive, what is that supposed to mean?”

“He was always attractive, but he got hot. It’s different. You know exactly what I mean, don’t play dumb.”

“Even so, he’s my best friend. There’s nothing romantic there, don’t you think if there were we’d have hashed it out in the sixteen years we had before he left for school?” Jisung insists. It’s true, right? Things like this don’t just change because they had a little space and Minho happened to start working out every morning. Not with people as close as Jisung and Minho.

“I think you’re stupid,” Hyunjin says, leaning back on the heels of his hands and grinning. Hyunin is calling him stupid? Jisung wants to wipe that stupid grin off his stupid face.

“Oh, fuck off. I need to change, get out of here.”

“Why do I need to leave?”

“Because, you’re going delusional from the lack of oxygen in such a small shared space. Get out now,” Jisung says, grabbing Hyunjin’s wrists and pulling him up. “Go get some air and try to remember the state of the world.”

“I didn’t say you had to make it romantic. I just said you didn’t have to not make it romantic. Don’t be so defensive, Sungie,” Hyunjin says, laughing as he’s shoved out of the fitting room. A store attendant is staring at them startled, and Jisung feels his face start to flush with how that must look and sound to a stranger. Curse Hwang Hyunjin and his stupid misleading lines and his stupid grins and his stupid sense of observation.

And the stupid way he tends to be right.

“I’ll meet you by the ties. Gonna go make sure Felix hasn’t picked out anything too absurd,” he says with a lazy wave of the hand, leaving Jisung to undress in peace.

Jisung leaves with this new suit in a garment bag and a burgundy and silver patterned tie in a parcel around his wrist. Red is his favorite color, and silver looks good against Minho’s skin and eyes.

* * *

  
**20 Days Before Prom**

Jisung has developed a pattern in the several weeks since receiving his wait-list letter. He checks his mailbox religiously every day after school without fail, sorts through the junk mail and bills to give to his parents, and prays to anyone or anything that might listen to please let something more exciting arrive with his name on it tomorrow. And each day, when it doesn’t come, he sends Minho an update. Sometimes that’s the only thing they say to each other for the day, just a simple “It didn’t come :(“ followed by a comforting “It’ll be there soon or I’ll march over to the dean’s office and vouch for you myself,” but sometimes it turns into more. A conversation about how different the weather is between their towns, or an assignment one of them has, or something bizarre Minho saw a drunk person do on campus. Sometimes they facetime and talk about absolutely nothing, or watch a movie and pretend there isn’t a couple seconds delay between them. Regardless, Jisung thanks his stars that as a sophomore in university, Minho still finds time to do this with him.

He has insisted on buying Jisung a corsage, or something like a corsage, even found a place where he can get two pins instead of a pin and a bracelet. Minho whittled Jisung’s will down enough to learn that a dark red rose would be perfect, though he still refuses to show his suit on video before the big day.

“It’s not a wedding dress, dumbass, just show me what you look like.”

“It’s just as important, and I’m not a dumbass.”

Finals are starting soon, and from last year they both know communication is bound to become scarce as they inch closer and closer to those dreadful days. They talk as much as they can right now, before that terrible time comes upon them.

* * *

  
**10 Days Before Prom**

“So when exactly is Minho coming into town?”

“I don’t know exactly, I haven’t asked.”

Jisung is seated at the kitchen table with his mom after school, moving a small, shared pile of fruit around with his spoon as he waits for a good reason to get up and go up to his room. The metal makes loud, unpleasant noises against the ceramic plate. It seems to match his mood. He’s a little down today, the lack of mail hit a little harder than it should have and he really just wants to sulk, if he’s being honest.

“Well you’d better find out, honey, so we can get something ready for him,” Jisung’s mom chastises, grabbing his spoon and putting it down as she munches on a grape, presumably to stop the horrendous scratching noise. “I want to thank him properly.”

“Thank him?”

“For being your date. He doesn’t have to come all the way out here and do that, you know. You’d better be grateful.”

Grateful. Jisung is grateful, but it’s not like he asked for the favor or anything. He had to spill the full situation to his parents, tell them why exactly he needed money for a suit and prom tickets and explain that they couldn’t meet his date because he wasn’t in town (not to mention because they already know him as a third son). They’d been thrilled, they’re always thrilled with Minho, he practically walks on water in their eyes. And it’s not that Jisung can blame them, Minho walks on water in his eyes too, but he doesn’t really want to hear the narrative that taking him to prom is some type of burden when he’s spent the last month trying to push it out of his own head.

“I’m delighted.”

“What’s with the tone?”

“Nothing, no. I’m grateful. I’ll go call him now,” Jisung says, starting to head for the stairs.

“Find out if he wants any kind of dinner too, okay?” Jisung’s mom calls out.

“He wants fried chicken.”

“No, you want fried chicken,” his mom laughs. “Find out what Minho wants.”

“He’s going to want dinner with his own parents! And Minho likes fried chicken too! Don’t you want your own son to be happy?”

“Yes I do. Now call your date and get me some info. If you do a good job there’ll be something good in it for you,” she says. Jisung nods and darts up the stairs defeated.

He takes a few minutes for himself first, delaying the task not because it’s actually a troublesome thing to do but because his mother had asked him to do it. Maybe not the most mature attitude to hold when he’s about to be leaving home for the first time (hopefully), but old habits die hard. When he’s changed and comfortable and can’t think of any reason to delay his call anymore, Jisung props his phone up on his desk and facetimes Minho.

“Hello?”

Minho picks up almost instantly, but the screen is the telling pink of someone covering the camera with a finger and there are muffled sounds of water coming from his speaker.

“One sec,” Jisung hears Minho reply, followed by the sound of a faucet turning and the water coming to a stop. “Sorry, just got out of the shower,” Minho says. The screen lights up and the picture finally comes through, though it’s one Jisung wasn’t quite prepared for.

Minho, shirtless, hair dripping wet and face completely bare. Something Jisung has seen before, absolutely, but not since last summer and even then it had been getting a little hard to digest without his face heating up. At least then he’d been able to blame the hot sun pounding on them as they spent entire days messing around at the beach. What’s his excuse supposed to be now? A late second wave of puberty? He glances at his phone screen, inspecting the tiny version of his face in the corner and checking to make sure his ears aren’t noticeably red. He seems safe, at least for now.

But damn, Minho really needs to stop with this whole “hot college guy” thing. It’s getting old.

“Should I call you back?”

“What? No, Sungie, I’m here. Just give me a second, I just got out of the shower,” Minho says, He’s wrapped a towel around his neck and is walking into his room. Jisung hears the TV going in the background, probably Chan, and watches a little droplet of water fall from the tip of Minho’s hair down to his face, roll down his neck and get caught at his collarbone. “Everything ok, though? You didn’t text before calling, you usually do.”

Jisung snaps back to attention, moving his eyes back up to meet Minho’s (at least as much as possible through a screen) and tries to focus on the task at hand. “Yeah, I’m fine. My mom wants to know when exactly you’re coming back. To the minute, if you can.”

“Oh, ok. I’m coming back thursday night, I’ll leave here at five and hopefully be there by nine. You can tell her 9:03 pm if you think that will make her happier.”

“What will you do if you arrive earlier?”

“To make your mom happy? I’ll just wait in the car, I suppose. No other option,” Minho says with a smile. He places the phone down on his desk and moves the towel through his hair, leaving a ruffled mess that gets further disheveled when he pulls a soft looking sweater over his head.

“And if you’re late?”

“I won’t be late. I’ll speed.”

“Don’t say that,” Jisung says, unable to hold back a little grin. He’d wanted to make this call short and sweet, give himself ample time to sulk in his room before starting his homework, but that desire is starting to fade. “She’ll know. She always knows. Nine is late though, she wanted to make you dinner.”

“I was just going to get fast food on the road,” Minho says. He’s flopped onto his bed and rolled to his side, and if Jisung had to guess he’d say the phone is propped against the wall. It almost feels like they’re laying side by side. Wouldn’t that be nice?

Huh?

Hyunjin’s little comment is seriously fucking with his brain lately, that must be it. For the past month. He needs to get it out of his head. This isn’t romantic. Minho is attractive, Jisung would say he himself is pretty attractive too, that doesn’t mean he has to think about laying in bed next to him and pushing the damp strands of hair from his forehead before they dry into something uncontrollable (as they tend to do).

Minho used to eat his own boogers.

(Jisung used to think it was cool, if Minho did it, it must be cool. He used to eat his own boogers too.)

So stop daydreaming, stop projecting, get your shit together and continue this very normal conversation with your best friend.

“I’m going to need that in writing, because my mom will absolutely delay our normal dinner by three hours to appease your schedule.”

“My mom wouldn’t stand for it.”

“My mom would make your mom. She’s scarier. Your mom is nice and relaxed and goes with the flow, my mom is a force of nature,” Jisung insists. Maybe it’s because he had an older brother, but Jisung’s mother, kind as she may be, likes to have a plan and rules in place. Minho’s mom is cooler, lets him do whatever as long as he’s safe. That’s why they almost always hung out at Minho’s place.

“I will text your mother myself and tell her that I don’t want to hold up dinner for you guys. Just eat without me, we can do a joint family thing before I leave.”

“Thank you, that’s all I need. If you’d like, you can also tell her that even if you aren’t going to be there I still deserve fried chicken.”

“I’m not texting her that,” Minho laughs. “But nice try. So tell me something.”

“Tell you what?”

“Anything. I haven’t spoken more than two sentences to you in like a week.”

“Not my fault,” Jisung teases, sticking out his tongue.

“Not my fault either, I have finals coming up!”

If Jisung is going to end this call and make alone time to sulk, this is his chance to do so.

“And you’re still in the middle of them, so hang up and get studying!”

That’s what he could say.

“I know it’s not, I’m just joking. Not much has happened to me though. Just working on some projects.”

“Hmm? Anything fun?”

“Of course not. So tell me, why are you showering at four in the afternoon? You’re a morning showerer, always have been.”

“It’s kind of a weird story,” Minho says, sitting up and towel drying his hair once again.

“I’ve got time.”

They talk until Jisung is called down for dinner, and when the door to his room opens the familiar smell of fried food wafts through the house and into his nostrils, making him perk up.

Fried chicken.

Maybe this day wasn’t too bad after all.

* * *

  
**4 Days Before Prom**

“So you really don’t think we should have gotten a limo?” Seungmin asks, hesitance clear in his voice. He’s seated next to Felix on the grass as they all enjoy lunch in the courtyard on this unseasonably warm day. Jisung is pretty sure he thinks he’s being sneaky with the way his arm crosses over Felix’s behind them, but despite the attempt, Seungmin has never been sneaky in his life, and Felix has never even tried.

“The limo is expensive, we have like a thirty minute drive to the venue and that’s more than I want to cover. Almost all of us can squeeze into my car,” Hyunjin insists. “But you’re sure you’re good going with M- with just your date, Jisung?”

“Yeah, no big deal. It’ll be nice to have some alone time, you guys would probably scare them off anyway,” Jisung says. He doesn’t mind riding alone with Minho at all, even wonders if he should ask his date if they can volunteer the station wagon, which actually would fit everyone. But this adds to the surprise, just another little thing to delay his friends from finding out who his mystery partner is. It’s really more of a fun game than anything by now, Jisung has lost all sense of shame about going with Minho and instead found joy in constantly shooting down his friends pestering.

“Yeah, sure we will. Lix is terrifying,” Hyunjin scoffs, gesturing at their friend. He smiles his sweetest smile, frames his face in his hands and waves, the absolute picture of innocence.

“Lix isn’t, but Jeongin is,” Jisung insists. He gets a smack on the knee in return from the youngest member of their little group, then another one from Hyunjin. Always there to protect his man. “Ow! You two are the worst couple I’ve ever met, you belong together. Anyway, the point still stands, I don’t have any other option. Don’t waste money on the limo, I’ll be fine.”

“I’m sneaking in a flask,” Jeongin declares. This time Seungmin is the one doing the smacking, though it barely makes a sound.

“The hell you are, you’re on the student council and you’re a child.”

“But it’s tradition,” he whines, rubbing his knee even though Seungmin had barely tickled him. “I don’t want to miss out.”

“It’s not tradition, you only want to do that because you heard Minho did it from Jisung. And he didn’t even use it. And there’s security this year. You get caught, they won’t let you in,” Seungmin says.

“Holy shit, you’re a killjoy,” Hyunjin laughs. “Don’t worry, Innie, I’ll put a juicebox in my car for you.”

“You suck.”

“You like me anyway.”

“Shut up.”

Jisung watches the bickering in amusement, trying to enjoy the atmosphere. Felix is doing his best to keep Seungmin calm at the ridiculous statements Hyunjin and Jeongin keep making, and he can’t help but think what a nice couple they make already. It seems like something has shifted between them, though nothing is official quite yet, and Jeongin and Hyunjin have their own routine well rehearsed by this point in their relationship. It’s hard not to feel like a fifth wheel. He hopes it will be better on Saturday night, when at least he’ll have Minho to snicker to and make jokes with as the couples do their thing.

He’s really looking forward to it, they all are, more than he expected. Minho says he’s excited to teach Jisung how to slow dance, and though Jisung resists it verbally he’s actually genuinely excited to learn. Hyunjin had given a few demonstrations, steps from a class he and Minho had taken back when they both attended the same dance academy, but supposedly it will be better with a real partner. Minho will be a good teacher, he always has been. Two more days until he’s in town.

Jisung can hardly wait.

* * *

  
**2 Days Before Prom**

“How far are you?”

“I’m like three hours away, it’s only six. You didn’t seriously think I was going to speed that much?” Minho’s voice comes through Jisung’s phone a little fuzzy, the result of being on speaker while driving down the highway.

“No, of course not. I’m just… Just get here quick, ok?” Jisung says, biting back an overly enthusiastic ‘I just want to see you!’ that threatens to come out.

“Aww, you miss me? You want to see me?” Minho teases. Maybe Jisung didn’t bite things back as well as he thought.

“I just fear that if you go too long without looking at my face you’ll get sad. So I think you should get here quick,” he follows up. It’s a pretty lame excuse, but at least it makes Minho chuckle before responding.

“I want to see you too. I’ll be there at nine, I promise,” Minho says softly.

“Ok. I’ll see you then.”

“I’m gonna go now, ok?”

“Yeah. Focus on the road, why are you talking to me?” Jisung responds.

“I haven’t the slightest idea. See you soon, Sungie.”

And then the line goes dead.

Jisung ponders his next move for a moment, wondering the best plan of action. He’d typically lounge around for a while, not start his homework until after dinner and work into the night. That’s not going to cut it today, he has way too much nervous energy to do nothing.

Minho is coming home.

Jisung starts his homework early, though even with that his workload is so light at this point in the semester that he has ample time to pace around his room. He should be studying for final exams, that’s the only reason the homework load is lighter right now, but there’s no way he can focus on anything without a set structure right now. So he paces, plays a game, waits for his parents to call him to dinner. He settles on the couch with them for a while after that, tries to distract himself by watching a family friendly show and chattering about the day. Jisung suspects that under any other circumstance they’d be nagging at him to go back upstairs and study, but they know him well enough to sense that that’s not going to happen. So instead they pay him company, distract him until 8:50 when they just so happen to decide it’s time for them to turn in for the night.

Ten minutes. Or thirteen, if Minho holds true to his commitment. Why is he so nervous? Minho hadn’t come home for winter break, instead spending the time at his job picking up extra shifts for some spare cash, and while Jisung had understood the decision that means it’s been nearly nine months since they’ve been face to face. He remembers hugging Minho goodbye at the end of the summer, the way that even though his mind said things would be fine his body simply hadn’t wanted to pull away. Maybe that’s what Hyunjin had been referencing, and maybe he had been right. Something in the summer air had crackled between them back then, at least on Jisung’s side, and he still isn’t quite sure what that meant. Maybe he’s about to find out.

Jisung darts into the bathroom while he has time, inspects his teeth and skin and runs a hand through his hair to give himself some volume. He looks fine, at least he thinks he does. Maybe even a little bit better than he had at the end of summer, since he’d spent all of January binge watching skincare videos online and has now gotten most of his troublesome spots out of control. A little voice in the back of his head points out that the Jisung from a year ago wouldn’t care how he looked to see his best friend. He ignores it.

And then Jisung steps back into his family room, and there are headlights in the street, and they turn. Not into his driveway but into the one next door, the one in front of the little yellow house that Jisung had spent practically half his childhood in. It’s dark, but Jisung can just make out the outline of a dinky old station wagon as it parks. As if to confirm his suspicions, Jisung’s phone dings, and he digs it out of his pocket to look at the message.

**Minho (8:58 pm)** : Do I have to wait 5 minutes to tell you I’m here?

Jisung darts outside, only stopping to grab his keys, and runs across his yard to the neighboring driveway. The lawn is wet against his bare feet, and when he makes it to the gravely driveway it pinches a little bit, but he ignores it as he runs to greet Minho’s car. Jisung sees his friend looking down at his phone, but just before he makes it to the passenger door he looks up and makes eye contact. He watches a smile grow on Minho’s face, watches him open his door and run out to meet him halfway, sees him spread out his arms before he makes the very spontaneous decision to jump and wrap his legs around his best friend's waist as he holds on for dear life.

“You’re here!” Jisung yells, more to the back of Minho’s head than his actual face. He feels solid arms around his back holding him up before his friend starts waddling to the front of his car to place Jisung down on the hood.

“And you’re heavy.”

“I’m not heavy. Haven’t you been working out? You should be able to hold me no problem.”

“I have been working out, but you’re still an 18 year old man. You’re heavy,” Minho says, though from his eyes and his expression Jisung can tell it’s all in jest. “I think you got bigger.”

“That’s rude. You just got here and you’re already being incredibly rude. I should find another date,” Jisung huffs.

“Not bigger in that way, but like… well, like I said. You’re an eighteen year old man now. You look good, Sungie.”

“I do, don’t I?” Jisung says, smiling proudly and getting up from his place on the car hood. “You too. You look taller. And buffer. Who you been using those muscles on?”

“Oh, they’re just for show. Unless Chan eats my food, then he gets a beating,” Minho says, rolling up his sweatshirt sleeve and flexing a bicep. Jisung can barely see it, it’s dark and the sweatshirt is bulky as hell, but he still nods knowingly in response.

Minho really does look good. Healthy, mature, maybe a little bit… sophisticated? It’s hard to put the exact words to it. Maybe he just looks like an adult. But even with his hair clipped back dorkily in the pins Jisung knows he only keeps for driving and a thin layer of grime on him from being in the car for so long, he can tell it’s a little bit more than he was ready for.

He really does look good.

“You’re barefoot,” Minho points out, gesturing to Jisung’s feet. He pulls them closer to himself, getting comfy as he sits criss-cross on the hood of Minho’s car.

“I am. It’s warm out.”

“But that had to hurt.”

“Not more than being apart from you, baby,” Jisung says, shooting him finger guns and a cocky smile.

“You’re absolutely insane.”

“I’m not insane, I just saw your car and ran. I promise my feet are fine.”

“You literally have so many pairs of shoes-”

“Did you get in ok?” Jisung asks, interrupting his friend from the rant he can tell is about to come. This is not the conversation he wants to have after so many months apart.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Minho says with a grin. “Though Nelson nearly didn’t want to start up when I was trying to leave school.”

“Nelson is a dick like that,” Jisung says, tapping on the hood of Minho’s car. He’d had the honor of naming it when Minho received the hand-me-down from his parents, and though it was rather spontaneous Minho has never once tried to change it or take it back. “But we love Nelson.”

“We do,” Minho says, patting the car fondly. They’re silent for a moment as Minho looks around, taking in his house, his old neighborhood, his old neighbor. His old life, to some extent. But then he claps his hands and the silence is broken. “Ok, what are you doing right now?”

“I’m… sitting here?”

“I mean like, tonight. What are you doing?”

“Minho, it’s 9 pm on a school night. I have class tomorrow. I don’t know what you’re asking,” Jisung giggles. A look of realization comes across Minho’s face, like he has just now remembered that Jisung is in fact a high school student despite driving four hours to bring him to his senior prom.

“Oh, right. Ok but like… you don’t sleep until two in the morning, I know you. So why don’t you go get some shoes, I’m going to put my stuff inside, and we meet back out here in ten?”

“Don’t you think your parents will want to spend time with you?”

“They’ll understand,” Minho assures him. “I came here for you.”

“Oh,” Jisung replies, unsure what to say to that. It brings heat to his ears and a dopey smile to his lips that he hopes his friend can’t see. “But, where are we going?”

“You’ll find out,” Minho says. “Just meet me back by Nelson.”

“Fine.”

With that, they split ways (though Minho insists on piggybacking Jisung over to his lawn, where his feet will be safe and protected from gravel). He makes his way inside to put on socks and shoes, then spends a minute staring at his closet. Should he tell his parents he’s going out? Probably. Should he bring a hoodie? He has no idea, but grabs one just in case.

And even though he should tell his parents, and he knows they would probably make an exception on his curfew for this one special night, that seems like it would ruin the fun. So he tiptoes past their room, down the stairs, and out the door. He ducks behind the bushes framing their front windows, sprints across his yard and into Minho’s, and quietly positions himself on Nelson’s hood as he waits for Minho to come out.

He isn’t trying to peep, but he is curious, and it’s hard not to look at Minho’s house when it’s the only source of light nearby. Through drawn curtains he can see the silhouette of three people, Minho and his parents. The tallest, Minho’s dad, stands with his hands on his hips as the two other figures hug. Minho and his mom have always been close, his father not as much. When he’d come out to them during winter break his first year of university, both relationships had been pushed to more extreme lengths. His father hadn’t been against it, per se, just faded even further into the background of Minho’s life than he already had been. Minho’s mother, extraordinary and wonderful woman that she is, had been overwhelmingly accepting. Jisung even went to her himself when he was having some of his own… questions. Asked how it felt as a mother to hear that kind of news as he debated what to say to his own family. He’s not as sure as Minho about his own feelings, not so clearly gay or straight, and he’s not sure he ever will be, but in the end he’d come to his own conclusion; if the person is good, he’s open to anything. It’s just that nobody had been quite good enough to try for anything serious yet.

Jisung watches on as he hears laughter through the window, matching cackles that Minho and his mother both share.

Minho is by far the best person he knows.

“I’ll be back before morning,” he hears, followed by Minho running out the front door with a blanket in hand. “Hey, you’re here.”

“I’m here,” Jisung confirms, standing up from his spot on the car. “Where are we going? You’re not gonna blindfold me or anything, are you?”

“Do you want me to? Is that what kids are into these days? Sensory deprivation?” Minho asks. Jisung feels his jaw drop, not used to hearing Minho’s innuendos in person anymore.

“I’m not a kid!” he defends when he regains control of himself. “You’re sick.”

“No, I guess you’re not,” Minho says, unlocking the car. “Just get in, you’ll know where we’re going. You don’t trust me?”

“Of course I trust you.”

Jisung climbs into the car, surprised how tidy it is after such a long journey. Minho had always been the anal one between the two of them. It’s not an easy start, the car whines and groans as Minho turns the ignition, only roaring to life after a good two minutes of ‘gentle touches’ and soft praises whispered into the steering wheel.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to have to beg your car to work,” Jisung says, frowning at the dashboard. “You sure this thing is safe?”

“Nelson is just temperamental these days.”

“Nelson, what’s he done to you?” Jisung asks, patting the glove compartment. “You were always so nice before. Have you missed me?”

Minho scoffs at that remark, earning himself a glare and a flick on the arm. “Yeah, that must be it.”

“This car loves me. As do you. Stop lying to yourself,” Jisung says. Outside the window he sees the tree-lines streets of their suburb start to clear as Minho turns into a community park. He opens the window and listens as the wind gets overwhelmed by the sound of waves crashing against the shore.

Ah. The beach.

“I didn’t bring a swimsuit,” Jisung says, staring out the window as they make their way to a secluded parking lot. The main public beach is gated and locked at night, but there’s a private beach, their private beach, that stays hidden. It’s only accessible if you know the path, and very few people do.

“That’s fine, I figured we could just skinny dip,” Minho says, reaching over to tug on Jisung’s collar before earning himself yet another flick on the arm. “Ow! We’re not swimming, are you nuts? It’s dark and it’s way too cold. It’s still only spring”

God, if Minho keeps this up he’s going to have a heart attack before he even graduates high school. It’s not just the innuendos and the suggestive language, it’s the touching and the play flirting and the way he looks. He’s still Minho, but he’s different, he really is. Jisung isn’t quite sure how to handle that.

“You’ve gotten more perverted since you’ve been at school.”

“I’m not perverted, I’m liberated. You should try it sometime,” Minho says. He pulls into the spot closest to the path and gets out, running around to Jisung’s door and pulling it open before he can do so for himself. “See? I’m a gentleman.”

“A gentleman,” Jisung scoffs, getting out and looking around. It’s dark without the car’s headlamps on, even with the dim street lights of the parking lot and the moon shining above them. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Well, you won’t have to wait too long,” Minho replies.

“Huh?” Jisung looks at him curiously as he pulls the blanket from his back seat and a bottle of water to share. What does that mean?

“Prom, remember? I got you the most beautiful, gentlemanly flower you could think of. I’ll be a perfect date.”

Oh yeah. Prom.

“Uh-huh.”

“We’ll be the best dancers in the room,” Minho insists. He leads the way into a thin layer of foliage, grabbing his elbow when the path gets a little overgrown. “The best looking couple, too.”

“With Hyunjin there? I’m pretty sure he’d be willing to fight you for both those titles,” Jisung points out.

“Whatever. We’d win. I’m older, what I say goes.”

“Maybe you two should go together and I could take Jeongin. I’m interested to see if you could win prom king without even going to this school anymore,” Jisung suggests. They make their way off the path and onto the beach, Jisung’s body immediately chilling as a breeze comes off the lake and rips through him. He zips his sweatshirt and pulls the hood up as Minho lays the blanket down. It’s not a big beach, if it was it wouldn’t be so private or unknown, but it’s enough for them and their friends.

“God, I could never. He’s like my pesky little brother that follows me around, there’s no way I could dance with him,” Minho says, flopping onto the blanket and patting the space next to him for Jisung to join. He does, seated a respectable six inches away, and is immediately pulled closer as Minho huddles against him for warmth.

“You two quite literally used to dance with each other,” Jisung argues, earning a gentle knock on his head from Minho’s own. “Ow! What was that for?”

“You know what I mean. We took dance classes together, we didn’t dance together. I could never like, take him as a date somewhere. Seriously, like a pesky little brother.”

“And I’m not like a pesky little brother?”

“No.”

“Hmm,” Jisung hums. He’s not sure what to say to that, so instead he stares at the water and thinks. They’ve known each other forever, since he was three days old. So being like a pesky little brother, that’s probably how it should be. But Minho has never felt like an older brother, Jisung already has one of those. An idol, maybe? A best friend? A soulmate? It’s hard to say. How does he see Minho, as things stand right now? And how does Minho see him? “I have a question.”

“Hmm?”

“You’re a pervert now,” Jisung states. He can feel Minho turn to look at him, but keeps his eyes focused on the water. No way can he ask this face to face.

“That’s not true, and it’s not a question.”

“Ok, you said you’re liberated or whatever. But you never talk about like… guys. To me, at least. So what is liberated? Are you dating around?”

Minho doesn’t answer right away, and that alone makes Jisung nervous. Is he dating up a storm and he just thinks Jisung won’t be able to get it? Or is he not dating around, but sleeping around? There’s nothing wrong with messing around, especially in college. Minho is twenty years old, he has every right to do whatever he wants with his body. Hell, he’s been working hard for that body, it would be a shame for nobody to see it.

The thought still leaves a bad taste in Jisung’s mouth.

“Well, no,” Minho says after a brief hesitation. “But I could. If I wanted to.” Jisung sighs in relief, releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding. It must be louder than he realizes, because he can feel Minho’s gaze on him intensify, and he finally turns to meet it. Legs pulled to his chest, head resting on his knees, Jisung locks eyes with his.

“Oh could you, now?” he asks, putting on a teasing tone to keep the mood from getting weird.

“I definitely could,” Minho responds, shifting to mimic Jisung’s position.

“So why don’t you?”

“I don’t know. I did, last year. You remember I told you I was dating that guy for a couple months?”

“Oh yeah. What was his name again?” Jisung asks. He does remember now that Minho mentions it, but that feels like so long ago. He doesn’t recall feeling any resentment at the time, just a bit of awe that Minho had finally acted on feelings he’d always felt he had to hold back at home. He wonders what changed to make him feel this way now.

“Juyeon.”

“Ohhhh now I remember,” Jisung says. A lie. “You still talk to him?”

“No, not at all. I don’t even think I have his number anymore,” Minho laughs, no hint of malice in his expression. He’s shifted to match Jisung’s position, arms wrapped around his own legs as they face each other head on.

“So what, you’re not over him? Or you hated dating? Or he ruined it for you? What?”

“I don’t know, he was nice. I just wasn’t that into it. I mean, freshman year in general I did try dating, hooked up with a few people, it was all well and good.”

“And this year you suddenly turned into a nun?” Jisung teases.

“This year… there were just things I’d rather be doing,” Minho says, eyes glazing over a bit as he reaches a hand out to Jisung’s face. “I had other priorities,” he continues, pinching Jisung’s cheek and wiggling it a bit.

“Ow! Watch it, dickwad,” Jisung whines, shaking his head to get Minho off. “What other priorities? You were on the phone with me like, all the time. You didn’t seem all that busy to me.”

Minho just smiles at him and pinches his cheek again, releasing it when Jisung brings his hand up to swat it away and replacing the grip with a gentle cupping of his jaw. He still moves his hand up and down, he’s always liked playing with the chub of Jisung’s cheeks, but it doesn’t hurt, so Jisung lets him have his fun. “Well, I couldn’t let you be bored and panicky all by yourself, now could I?”

“I can hold my own,” Jisung defends. “And I have other friends, Hyunjin is always here if I’m really in trouble. Like, if I need to bury a body or whatever.”

“I know you can,” Minho laughs. “And if you have to bury a body, you should still call me. Hyunjin is bad at physical labor, I’d drive the four hours to help just to keep you from having to hear his complaining.”

“Wow. My hero. You know what I mean, though.”

“Well maybe I just wanted to talk to you, hmm? Ever think about that?”

Jisung feels heat creep to his face and jolts himself up, hiding any potential blush before Minho can notice it and tease him. “As you should,” he says, “I’m a fantastic conversation partner.” He leans back on his hands and looks into the sky. It’s a waxing crescent moon, if he remembers anything from last year's astronomy elective. Felix says that means he should be thinking about his intentions, things he wants to happen. He’s not sure if he believes all that, but it seems appropriate right now.

What exactly are his intentions?

“You are. I’m simply bored to death of not having you at school, oh great and powerful Jisung,” Minho deadpans. He’s shifted to match Jisung’s position once again, staring at the sky and admiring the faint glow of the stars that they can make out, clouded by the pollution of nearby towns and cities. Jisung turns to look at him after a moment, taking him in under the hazy glow.

It’s a familiar side profile, but it never has lost its novelty. The nose that used to be too big for his face now looks tall and distinguished. His lips, pouty and defined, still hold the faint curve of a smile from their conversation. He’s a sight to behold, that’s for sure. Jisung really misses seeing him every day. Maybe if they hadn’t been separated, he would be able to pinpoint the exact moment that his feelings began to shift, when he began seeing Minho as something more than his lifelong neighbor and best friend.

“Well,” Jisung says, clearing his throat to collect his emotions. “You don’t have to worry. I’ll get that letter soon and I’ll be there next year.”

“Oh yeah?” Minho asks, the faint curve of his lips turning up into a genuine smile. “I know you will.”

“Do you think I’ll like it?”

“What? Being away at school?”

“Yeah. And the campus, the people. All of it. Will I fit in there?” Jisung asks. He’s been dreaming of going to JYP University for ages, he’s done the required research, by all accounts he should be set. He knows the school. But Minho actually knows him.

“You know I can’t predict that for you,” Minho says, turning to look at him. “But… I think you will. The campus isn’t too big, so it’s hard to get lost. Your gen ed classes will be the same no matter where you take them, there’s no helping that. And as for the people? I can’t predict what kind of people will be in your class, but I always had good luck meeting nice people.”

“I see.”

“I’ll be there. You like me, right?” Minho asks, sending a flirty wink his way. Jisung knows it’s meant to be a joke, but it makes his heart sink to his stomach.

Ah, he might really be screwed.

“Yeah,” Jisung creaks out, embarrassed when his voice comes out squeaky and adolescent. That’s one way to show his newfound maturity.

“Jisung?”

“Yeah?”

Minho looks at him before answering, an intense, deep look that makes Jisung feel like his soul is being put on display. Like he’s trying to figure Jisung out, like he hasn’t known him for eighteen years. “Nothing,” he finally says, “no, nothing. You’re just all grown up.”

Jisung sits in silence for a moment, wondering what to make of that. The flirting, the looks, the touches. There’s no way Minho has ever seen him as anything but a kid, right? At least, maybe until today. But in the two hours they’ve spent together tonight, maybe it’s his imagination, but it seems like Minho is looking at him a little bit differently. Like… a possibility. Like he might just have a shot.

But it’s frightening, not knowing where you stand with someone once so close. Far too frightening to make any kind of grand gesture, or god forbid come out and ask. So he does something subtle. Something small, something that could be easily brushed off if it goes awry. Something that hints to Minho that Jisung thinks he might be a possibility too.

Jisung looks back up to the sky and shifts, just enough on his right arm that their hands overlap. If Minho didn’t like it, he’d say something, right? But he doesn’t say a word, doesn’t make a peep, and most importantly, he doesn’t move his hand away. That’s a good sign, Jisung has to take that as a good sign. He pushes a little further, weaves his fingers between Minho’s until the motion is reciprocated. Their silence remains, though it’s not uncomfortable. With them it never is. Instead it’s an opportunity, a chance to focus on the sound of the waves in front of them, the soft glow of the sky, and the feeling of their fingers laced together after so many months apart. It’s really nice.

So he pushes a little further, lets his head lean to the right and rest on Minho’s shoulder and smiles when he feels the weight of Minho’s head lean atop his own. The smell of shampoo wafts into his nose, mixing with the ambient scent of the lake water and sand around them. Jisung lets his thoughts wander a bit, to a world where this could be a normal occurrence. Maybe not the stargazing by the beach part, but the rest of it. The intimacy, the closeness, the feeling of their breathing syncing up as they both space out. Is this what they would be like if the stars aligned and they decided to try dating? After all these years? Is this what being with Minho would feel like?

It’s small, the movement he makes to glance up at his friend. His best friend. With the slight shift of his head, Jisung can just make out a bit of Minho’s face, a face he’s known forever. But that’s the problem, isn’t it? What if he’s overreacting, what if he really is going through a second wave of puberty and his body is just tricking him into thinking there’s something more because this version of Minho is new and shiny and gorgeous? It’s not been that long since he’s been home, after all. A couple hours at most. If he pushes things too much and something goes wrong, he could lose all of this. Not just this moment and their newfound exploration of intimacy and flirting, but all of it. His best friend, one of the few constants in his life. His favorite person.

He can’t afford to lose Minho.

But as he’s shifted slightly up to look at his best friend, Minho has shifted just a little bit down. Their faces are close, much closer than any two friends would normally be, but neither of them seem inclined to move.

“What are you thinking about?” Minho asks, finally breaking the quiet between them. He moves just a little, faces still close but now looking at each other more directly instead of his previous bottom-up angle.

“Ah, I’m just… I guess I’m thinking about how things are changing?” he says. It’s vague enough not to tip anything off about his exact thoughts, but honest enough not to be a lie.

“What kinds of things?” Minho asks. Jisung is still positioned slightly lower than him, leading Minho to gaze down at him with slightly hooded eyes that flicker up and down his face as he waits for an answer.

“I guess everything?” Jisung tries, still trying to be discreet. “Like, I’ll be out of high school and out of the house and that makes things feel different. Everything feels different,” Jisung says softly.

“Good different or bad different?”

“I think good different,” Jisung says, swallowing hard. Minho’s gaze isn’t really flickering anymore, it’s pretty clearly focused on the bottom half of Jisung’s face. Dare he say his best friend in the world is staring at his lips?

Well, now Jisung is definitely staring at Minho’s.

“Things do feel different,” Minho agrees quietly, eyes still lingering. “Good different.”

“Yeah.”

Jisung can’t help but think that if Minho wasn’t pondering the same thoughts as him, he wouldn’t be acting like he is right now. He would pull away and put normal space between them instead of lingering three inches from Jisung’s face. He wouldn’t be staring at Jisung’s mouth or licking his bottom lip subconsciously, a habit that Jisung knows for a fact only comes out when he’s nervous or anticipating something. If he was a little more confident or a little more brave, maybe Jisung would give into temptation and lean a little closer. Minho’s lips look soft. Extraordinarily kissable.

He’s almost certain that would cross a line.

But god does what lay beyond that line look good.

The silence has overtaken them again, and it’s pretty clear that if something is going to happen it really needs to be soon. They aren’t close enough for it to be easy, it’s still a question that looms over their heads and in the inches between their faces; will you lean in and go for it or won’t you? A definitive choice begging to be made. What had once been comfortable background noise is now deafening as it mocks their lack of words, their lack of action. He has to make a choice, lean in or pull away, anything to drown out the sound of the breeze and the waves as they whip around in the ever-chilling night.

And then the choice is made for him.

The waves and wind are deafened by the sound of a loud, robotic ring. His phone, Jisung realizes. He pulls away quickly, whipping the device out of his pocket and glancing at the caller i.d.

“Mom?”

“Jisung? Where the hell are you, you’re not at home!” His mother is practically screeching, loud enough that he has to pull the phone away from his ear and hold it out to avoid temporary deafness.

“I’m out with Minho,” he says into the microphone. He glances at his friend, who has a hand clutched to his mouth and is clearly trying not to laugh.

“Where the hell are you on a school night at… 11:45 pm?”

“We’re at the beach,” Jisung says quietly.

“Hi, Mrs. Han!” Minho pipes in. Great. Of course he has to get involved.

“Is that Minho? Minho, I love you, but my son has school in the morning. Please bring him back.”

“Yes mam.”

“Please drive safely,” she says.

“I wouldn’t let a scratch on him.”

“Bye, mom,” Jisung says, hanging up before the conversation can drag on. He looks up at Minho awkwardly, unsure how to act given their little… moment. He can tell the awkward feeling is shared, especially with the way Minho keeps holding the back of his hand to his neck to check for signs of flushing. It’s dark enough that Jisung wouldn’t have noticed anything no matter how red he turned, but he’s given himself away. “So, um.”

“Yes?” Minho asks, standing up from the blanket and brushing himself off. He holds a hand out to Jisung, a helpful offer of assistance to stand up, which he gladly takes. But Minho lets go as soon as Jisung is up and off the blanket, and it stings more than it should. “Help me fold this?”

“Yeah, sure,” he says weakly, grabbing two ends of the cloth and pulling away from Minho to straighten it out before they walk to the middle and meet in a little folding dance. When it’s done Minho tucks the blanket under his arm and reaches back towards Jisung again. “Hmm?”

“It’s dark,” he says, opening and closing his palm in a grabby motion. Jisung smiles to himself and grabs on, grateful not to have to do the guesswork when Minho weaves their fingers together once again.

“You’re treating me like a kid again,” he chastises.

“I’m not. I literally just told your mom I’d get you home safe, I’m just making good on my promise,” Minho says. Jisung speeds up to walk side by side with him.

“Again, like a kid.”

“You’re not a kid, Jisung. You think I don’t know that?” he says, stopping in the middle of the hidden path and turning Jisung to face him. It’s hard to read his face, the foliage blocks out the little light they’d had, but his tone sounds more serious than it had all night. “You’re full grown, that much is pretty clear.”

“Ah,” Jisung says, looking down at his feet. Even the tiniest bit of eye contact right now is a bit too much for him to handle. “Yeah.” Minho squeezes his hand again and gently tugs him forward as they make their way back to the car. As quickly as the stern attitude had come, it was gone, leaving Jisung’s head spinning as he tries to figure out what put Minho off so much. “Well, hopefully not full grown. I think I can still get a little taller, don’t you?” he jokes, trying to lighten the mood.

“Pfft. Good luck, I’ve been trying and nothing happens whatsoever.”

“You must be doing it wrong,” Jisung says. They’re back in the parking lot now, streetlights providing enough dim light to see without any problem, but Jisung doesn’t let go of his grip on Minho’s hand. It doesn’t seem like Minho minds.

“What? I tried drinking milk, but… gross. And I’ve been eating super well, all my veggies and everything. What else is there?”

“The dance.”

“What dance? I do dance.”

“The growing dance. Like in Totoro,” Jisung explains, letting go of Minho’s hand to demonstrate. He clasps his palms together and squats down, knees bent and a look of concentration on his face, before stretching all his limbs as much as he can, hands raised in the air as if to reach the moon itself. Then again, and again, until Minho stops staring at him in confusion and starts laughing his ass off instead.

“Oh my god, how could I forget? No wonder I’m not growing,” he laughs, wiping a stray tear from his eye.

“Is it working?” Jisung asks, tongue poked out in concentration.

“I don’t know.”

“Do it with me,” he says, taking a break from his form and waving Minho by his side. They used to watch this movie a lot when they were kids, all the Ghibli movies, but while Minho had lost interest as a middle schooler Jisung had continued watching them obsessively throughout his youth. He’s proud to say he has been able to coerce Minho into watching some for their occasional video-call-movie-nights, though Totoro hadn’t been one of them.

“Ok, what am I doing?”

“Just do what I do. Down, then up. Yeah, like that,” Jisung says, laughing at how absurd they must look. Minho probably can’t tell how his face scrunches up every time he stretches, which makes it all the more entertaining to spectate. “Perfect.”

“Oh shit, Jisung!” Minho says, suddenly alarmed.

“What?”

“I think it’s working! I think you’ve grown!”

“Huh? Seriously?” Jisung asks, looking down at his legs.

“Yea, wait, stand up straight. Look at me,” he says. Jisung obeys, standing chest to chest with Minho as his friend holds a hand to the top of his head. They’re close again, and he’s conscious of it in the back of his head, but that isn’t what this is about right now.

“Oh,” Minho says after swishing his hand back and forth a few times. “False alarm. Still a pipsqueak.”

“Wha- Hey! That was on purpose.”

“Was it?”

“Screw you, Minho. I’ll grow taller than you one day, you’ll see.”

“Uh-huh,” Minho agrees lazily. “Get in the car, Jisung. Your mother is going to have my head on a platter if you aren’t home soon.”

They each climb into their respective seats, clapping for Nelson when he starts on the first try and bickering all the way home. Just like that, things feel normal again.

Except when Minho’s free hand brushes against Jisung’s as he flips to drive, lingering longer than any accidental touch would.

And when Jisung lets it, turning his own hand to make the grip more comfortable on the short ride back to his house.

* * *

  
**1 Day Before Prom**

Waking up the next day is hard. Jisung stays up far later than that on a regular basis, true. But usually he’s solitary in his room doing minimal physical activity, not going through an emotional crisis at the beach and coming two inches from kissing his best friend in the world. It’s a lot for his fragile eighteen-year-old body to handle. Maybe finals season has made him weak.

He drags himself to school and goes through his day as per usual, but the whole upperclassmen population is abuzz with excitement and secrecy. Girls whisper in hushed tones as they show their dresses only to the most trusted of friends while guys google last minute tutorials on how to tie a tie. Everyone is thrilled for the dance, and Jisung would be lying if he said he wasn’t feeling it himself. It’s the thing of legends, the main event of teen rom-coms and coming of age films alike. Today he is pre-prom Jisung, tomorrow he will be prom Jisung, and the next day he will be an adult.

Perhaps that’s a bit dramatic, but it’s what fiction has led him to believe.

It’s not until the middle of the day that he receives a text from Minho. That’s to be expected, Jisung knew he’d be spending time with his mother today since he’s not sure when he’ll be back for summer.

**Minho (12:03 pm):** I’m on my way to get our flowers  
 **Jisung (12:05 pm):** Well, I’m eating stale pizza  
 **Minho (12:06 pm):** Damn. That should be me. Sure miss high school.  
 **Jisung (12:06 pm):** You’re a liar  
 **Minho (12:07 pm):** Maybe so. What’s going on tonight?  
 **Jisung (12:08):** Idk why  
 **Minho (12:08 pm):** It’s a friday, you guys aren’t doing anything?  
 **Minho (12:10 pm):** You’re not going to make me sit here alone, are you?

Oh, shit.

Of course. Minho knows Jisung’s friends. He knows them well. Especially Hyunjin. Of course he would expect to hang out with them while he’s here. The only issue is, Jisung still hasn’t told them he’s coming to town. It’s the one thing he’s been adamant about, perhaps the longest secret he’s ever kept; his date will be revealed when they get to the dance.

“Hyunjin,” Jisung whispers under his breath, nudging his friend.

“What?”

“Shh,” he says, putting a finger to his lips and signalling to keep quiet. They’re at lunch with the whole friend group, so he needs to keep this hush. “I need you tonight.”

“Huh?”

“I need you to hang out with me and Minho tonight,” Jisung says quietly. “Please.”

“Sure. Can I bring Jeongin?” Hyunjin whispers back. The boy looks up at the mention of his name, and Jisung offers a shy wave to him before tugging on Hyunjin’s shoulder and pulling him away from the table.

“You can’t bring Jeongin. Minho is supposed to be a surprise, remember? But I forgot that we’d have this whole day to kill and I obviously can’t let him sit alone in his room twiddling his thumbs and he knows we always hang out on Fridays so… please?” Jisung asks when they get to a far corner of the cafeteria.

“Why can’t you just hang out with him alone, though?” Hyunjin asks in return.

“Uhh… He wants to see you,” Jisung fibs. While probably not wrong, it’s not like Minho had specifically mentioned Hyunjin. But Jisung’s head is still reeling with what had happened last night, and he’s not sure he’s ready for a take two. Having Hyunjin as a buffer seems like the best and least conspicuous option in keeping himself under control.

Hyunjin looks at him, brows raised in question. “He wants to see me? Specifically?”

“Yeah,” Jisung assures him. Hyunjin had been Jisung’s first friend in pre-school, the one to turn their duo into a trio. While he lived across town and couldn’t always join in on their time together, he’s just as integral to the group as Jisung or Minho. But he and Minho clash heads pretty often, and though the fighting is playful they haven’t kept in touch quite as religiously as Jisung and Minho had made a point to. “He said you’re like his little brother. Of course he wants to see you.”

“He said that?” Hyunjin asks. He seems a little flustered by the statement, especially since praise is rare from their older friend.

“He did.”

He’d also thrown the word annoying in the phrase, but Hyunjin doesn’t need to know that.

“I mean, I guess I can. I think Jeongin and Seungmin would probably have been discussing prom details most of the night anyway. And with Felix on the decorating committee… yeah, actually, you might be saving me.”

“Exactly! So, yes?”

“Yeah. Should we just go to your place after school?” Hyunjin asks. Jisung nods enthusiastically, thrilled that his plan worked. Now Minho doesn’t have to know that he’s being kept a secret, Jisung doesn’t have to face his feelings all alone, and Hyunjin… Hyunjin gets to be along for the ride.

“Yeah, that works for me. Just meet at my locker after school?”

“Sure thing.”

**Jisung (12:20 pm):** It’s just gonna be me, you, and Hyunjin. The others have student council and decorating stuff.  
 **Minho (12:22 pm):** I can’t wait to see Hyunjin. I’ll get my tissues ready.  
 **Jisung (12:23 pm):** I don’t understand you two.  
 **Minho (12:25 pm):** His mom told me to stop him from swearing. Tissues in the mouth were the only good way.  
J **isung (12:26 pm):** That’s so not true.  
 **Minho (12:26 pm):** *The most fun way  
 **Jisung (12:28 pm):** My bell is about to ring.  
 **Minho (12:29 pm):** Ok. Pay attention in class, sweetie. Get good grades.  
 **Jisung (12:30 pm):** Yes sir.

Going home with Hyunjin isn’t a strange occurrence, it happens all the time. But for some reason Jisung is nervous. It’s not a huge mystery as to why; what if he gives himself away? Or what if Minho does? And what if he can’t look at Minho the same in broad daylight knowing what could have happened in the dark of the night?

He’s fidgety, and at the very least Hyunjin notices that.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asks quietly, nudging Jisung as they ride the bus back home.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re shifting from foot to foot like you’re gonna pee. Are you gonna pee?”

“I’m not gonna pee! I’m fine, I just want to get back,” Jisung says, rolling his eyes at the suggestion.

“Back to Minho?”

Now, what is that supposed to mean?

“Back home. Minho is there too, so I guess yes, back to Minho.”

“Did you guys hang out when he got home last night?” Hyunjin asks. Jisung’s mind flashes back to their time together and he tries to will away any reaction his body may have. Hyunjin is grinning down at him, and that and the heat in his cheeks tell him he likely failed.

“We did, yeah,” Jisung says. At least his voice sounds relatively normal.

“Uh huh. What’d you do?”

“We just went to the beach for a while,” Jisung says nonchalantly.

“The beach? What’d you do at the beach, skinny dip?” Hyunjin asks, cackling at his own suggestion.

“What? What is wrong with the both of you, he said almost the same thing. You really are his annoying little brother,” Jisung whines. It makes Hyunjin laugh even harder, pulling looks from other students who already consider him a nuisance. “Come on,” Jisung says, tugging his friend's arm as they pull up to his stop.

“Stop tugging on me, my arm is going to come off,” Hyunjin giggles as they get off the bus. When Jisung lets go he speeds up to match their steps and grins down at him. “Ok, so what’d you do? If you weren’t naked or whatever.”

“Oh my god! What is with you, it’s like you want us to be together or something!” Jisung says, laughing at what he thinks is a ridiculous theory. No way Hyunjin would want to turn into the third wheel of their little group.

“I mean…” Hyunjin says, side eyeing Jisung without finishing his statement.

“You mean what?”

“I just don’t think it would be bad, I already told you that. I think you two are like… soulmates or something. I don’t really know under what context, but maybe you should be,” he says. They’ve just about arrived at Jisung’s house by now, and he pauses to keep the conversation away from any eavesdroppers.

“Do you really think that’s possible?” Jisung asks quietly.

“Yeah, I think so. Don’t get me wrong, I’m just an outsider. But as an outsider, yeah, I do. He’s been away for two years and you’re still so close.”

“But I didn’t like him like that before he left. Like, at all,” Jisung says. Although their timing and location are a little bit unfortunate, this is the first time he’s really processed this out loud. Maybe Hyunjin will have some insight.

“Yeah, of course not. You were sixteen, you didn’t even know you liked guys yet. Or at least it didn’t seem like you were ready to admit it if you did. And you were busy with classes and clubs and stuff, I doubt you would have noticed anything relationship-wise,” Hyunjin responds.

“What makes you say that? About the relationship thing?”

“Jisung, I watched Jiwoo try to ask you out once a week for like a month and a half and you didn’t even notice it.”

“Jiwoo? No, she just kept asking if I liked coffee. I didn’t like coffee,” Jisung says. He remembers that too, how she would come in and ask if he’d tried the latest new drink at a local coffee shop. The answer was always no, and when she asked if he wanted to try, it was still no. Coffee was gross back then. “But I’m sophisticated now, I’ve found the joy in it.”

“She wasn’t asking if you liked coffee, she was asking you to try stuff with her. As in, go to the coffee shop and try the stuff. With her. As in a date,” Hyunjin argues, rolling his eyes.

“W-what? She wanted to date me?”

“Until she realized how daft you are. I’m surprised it took her so long,” Hyunjin says. “But see? That’s my point. You weren’t romantically inclined back then. Are you romantically inclined now?”

“I…” Jisung bites back his words, wondering how much to expose. “I think I might be. Err, I definitely am. I’m pretty sure.”

“Towards Minho?”

Jisung pauses before responding to that. It might be weird to admit all this to Hyunjin if nothing ends up taking off. It will put him in a strange position, knowing what could have happened but unable to speak up on it. But it also might be really nice to actually say it out loud.

“Yeah, probably. Towards Minho.”

“HEY! WHAT THE HELL?”

Jisung and Hyunjin snap their heads around at the sound of a shout halfway down the block. Minho is standing there, waving his arms like a madman as he shouts at them again. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”

Jisung shrugs and starts walking, Hyunjin trailing close behind. Minho jogs a bit to meet them, stopping at the edge of Jisung’s lawn. “What are you two doing? I’m bored,” he says, scowling at them.

“Really good to see you again too, Minho,” Hyunjin says, rolling his eyes at the less than fluffy greeting.

“Hi, Hyunjin,” Minho says, opening his arms. Hyunjin steps forward slowly, lightly embracing the older boy as if frightened something bad may happen. After a few seconds, nothing has, so he tightens his grip and rests a chin on his shoulder.

“Hi, Minho. “

Jisung smiles at his friends, amused at the way they can seem so affectionate yet so put off by each other at the same time. It’s a stark contrast to the way Jisung himself had been greeted, but it seems appropriate for them. “Aw, look at us all reunited,” he coos from the back.

“You too,” Minho says, pulling away from Hyunjin just enough to grab Jisung by the elbow and pull him in. “Group hug.”

Jisung ends up wrapping himself around Minho’s back, encircling their formerly missing friend in a bear hug to be remembered. He rests his chin on Minho’s other shoulder, noting the way he stiffens slightly before relaxing upon feeling Jisung’s breath on his neck. The embrace is broken shortly after that, and when Jisung pulls away it’s hard not to take note of the pink tinge to his ears.

“You two don’t know how glad I am to see you. I thought I’d be hanging out with my mom and relaxing, but she’s just making me filter through old stuff for the thousandth time since I left for school. I swear, she wants to throw everything of mine out to make room for a home gym or something.”

“Sounds more like something my mom would do,” Jisung says, thinking back to his older brother's former bedroom and how it currently acts as a home office for his parents.

“Yeah, it does, which is why I think your mom has been whispering ideas into my mom’s ear while I’ve been gone.”

“Most likely. They have a lot of wine nights.”

“Did you get time to relax at all?” Hyunjin asks. They start to walk inside at Jisung’s lead, Minho and Hyunjin trailing behind.

“Not much, but I didn’t really want it. I had to go get some stuff done for tomorrow,” Minho responds.

Jisung’s ears perk up at that, interested as to what exactly it means. “Oh?”

“Don’t act so surprised, if I’m going to be a date I’m going to be a good one.”

“Now I’m questioning if there’s something I was supposed to do for Jeongin that I haven’t?” Hyunjin contemplates.

“It was just basic stuff,” Minho insists. “I picked up the boutonnieres, ironed my suit, broke in my heels.”

“Heels?” Jisung asks, surprised.

“Just joking about that one,” Minho says with a wink. “Wouldn’t want to make you look even shorter than me in group photos.”

“You’re a dick.”

“Aw, Jisung,” Minho coos, coming up behind him and wrapping an arm around his waist as he tucks his chin onto Jisung’s shoulder. “I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry.”

Jisung turns to glare at him, putting them at a hairs distance. Minho lets go abruptly, jolting back to his spot by Hyunjin’s side. Jisung takes the chance to hold his bag up to his face, which is useful both for hiding his embarrassment as well as pulling his keys free, then executes his daily tradition of rummaging through the mailbox to find a certain letter with his name on it. Junk mail, bills, a sheet of coupons. No elusive envelope from JYP University. He stays faced forward as he unlocks his door, letting the two behind him inside and tossing his bag to the side as they toe off their shoes. “Anyway. What’s a boutonniere?”

“The formal name for the little flower pin,” Hyunjin chimes in. “Jeongin wanted a green one, do you know how hard that was to find? The little punk.”

“He’s not a punk,” Jisung laughs. “You’re so whipped for him, I bed you’d drive three towns away if you had to.”

“I nearly did! But the lady at the shop saw me struggling and said she’d do a custom order for me.”

“Sounds expensive,” Minho says. He’s already on his way up the stairs to Jisung’s room, second nature kicking in and sending him up there without Jisung himself initiating the move.

“It was a bit. But his family covered the cost of tickets and stuff, so this is the least I could do.”

They all quiet down as they run up the stairs and into Jisung’s room, Minho getting comfortable on his bed as Jisung takes the desk chair and Hyunjin makes use of a beanbag chair that’s been in the family for at least fifteen years now. It’s small and ragged and barely used, but it’s helpful for this exact scenario.

“Oh, Sungie, I saw your mom earlier and she said she’d be home late. Something about a date night with your dad.”

“You talk to my mom without me?”

“You talk to my mom without me there. If I’m not mistaken, you even let her feed you sometimes,” Minho argues back.

“I- well, yeah! She makes cookies, Minho! And I think she misses you sometimes, so I have to be her replacement son.”

“She does make really excellent cookies,” Hyunjin chimes in. “I miss them.”

“Next time she makes them, I’ll snag some for you,” Jisung promises.

“Excuse me, can you please not use my mother as your personal baker?”

“Can you not let my mother use you as a personal message delivery service?” Jisung bites back. Hyunjin looks between the two and giggles, entertained by the show.

“I forget how close you two are sometimes. Like not just you two, but your families too. You’re like a married couple,” Hyunjin says.

Jisung and Minho stare at each other for a moment before turning away, though Jisung distinctly sees Minho’s tongue swipe over bottom lip in a show of nerves. Yeah, they’re close. Their families are close. Yet another reason to be mildly concerned about the change in dynamic looming between them.

“Please, we’re not married,” Jisung rebuttals.

“I’m way out of his league,” Minho agrees.

“Minho, I-”

“Anyway! What about some games?” Hyunjin says, cutting off whatever bickering argument was sure to stem from that. “Mario Party?”

“Since when do you like games?” Minho asks. Jisung would ask the same, that’s never once been Hyunjin’s first suggestion. He’s much more of a conversation guy, or a movie guy, or a pretty much anything but video games guy.

“Since it seems like a good way to shut you two up,” he returns.

“Aw, Hyunjin, I’ve been away for nine months and you’re done with me after ten minutes?” Minho asks, grabbing one of Jisung’s pillows off the bed and standing up to loom over the boy.

“Uh- no, I just-”

“Pillow for you!” Minho declares, bringing the cushion up before plunging it down onto Hyunjin’s head. Jisung cackles at the scene from his spot at his desk chair, which causes them to both look up and focus on him. Minho hands the pillow over to Hyunjin and grabs another from the bed as they launch an unspoken attack towards the boy.

“Stop! No, this is my house, stop!”

“When has that ever mattered?”

Jisung does his best to dodge and weave as he leaps from his chair, but is ultimately taken down by his friends.

He’s missed this.

No matter how old they get, or what dynamics shift between them, he hopes they will always have this. This goofing around and teasing each other, despite how much time has passed. When they calm down Hyunjin starts grilling Minho on his year; what he’s doing, who he hangs out with, what kind of advice he has to offer a soon-to-be college student. Things that Jisung and Minho have long discussed on their regular calls. Jisung takes the opportunity to sit back and relax, toss in little bits of info about Minho’s life that he himself had forgotten to mention. Hyunjin seems a little bit surprised that he knows so much, as does Minho, but what can he say? Perhaps he’s been listening even harder than he thought.

It’s a calm night, really. Perhaps that’s for the best. At some point they venture down the stairs to watch a movie on the big TV in the living room, Minho squished in the middle so Hyunjin and Jisung can split him evenly while he’s here.

And Jisung tries to be ok with that. With the way Minho folds his left leg up and tucks it under himself while his right leg presses into Jisung, arm looped low around his waist. It’s subtle, at least enough that Hyunjin doesn’t seem to notice, but it’s the only thing Jisung can focus on. He leans into the touch, he can’t help it, and tries to maintain some sort of self control before giving up and melting into his best friend’s side. By the end of the movie there are fingertips playing with the hem of his shirt, a head rested atop his own, and a set of very curious eyes scoping out the situation.

“I’m… gonna go to the bathroom,” Hyunjin says, snapping the two out of their daze as they sit up and straighten themselves out. Jisung nods as Minho utters some sort of confirmation, and they spend the next minute alone trying to avoid eye contact. This isn’t what they’re supposed to do, right? How they’re supposed to act, especially in front of their oldest friend. But just as Minho seems on the verge of speaking Jisung is saved by his phone once again.

Or so he thinks.

Hyunjin (8:36 pm): You didn’t say something had already happened you little goblin

Jisung shoves the phone back in his pocket, hoping Minho doesn’t see the message, but one glance at his best friend’s face shows that he has no such luck.

“What does that mean?” Minho asks quietly, a small smirk on his face.

“I don’t know. Who the hell knows what anything Hyunjin says means?”

“Seems like he’s implying something to me.”

Minho schooches closer to Jisung, untucks his leg from beneath his body, and reaches around quicker to grab Jisung’s calves. He can’t do anything but blink in surprise as he’s pulled halfway into Minho’s lap, but he doesn’t try to fight it. There are worse things he could do.

“Oh, come on, what the hell?” Hyunjin asks, pulling Jisung out of his confusion as he wipes his hands on his pants and walks over from the bathroom. “I’m still here, you know?”

“Yeah, how could I forget?” Jisung deadpans, letting his torso fall back onto the couch so he’s lying mostly flat aside from his legs across Minho’s. “I could hear you making a mess of my bathroom. Pfffft,” Jisung says, making his most disgusting noise only to be met with a flick on the forehead from Hyunjin.

“That’s bullshit and I did nothing of the sort.”

“I heard it too,” Minho chimes in, blocking Hyunjin’s incoming hand and swatting it away. “And I smell it.”

“You two are full of it. You’ve always been obnoxious together, but somehow it’s even worse now.”

“You missed it,” Jisung says with a grin.

“Only kind of. Man, the others really are in for a surprise tomorrow night,” Hyunjin says fondly.

“A surprise?” Minho asks.

“Yeah, I don’t think they’re prepared for all this. The consensus has been that Jisung’s date is some quiet guy that we just don’t know that well, not his evil partner in crime,” Hyunjin explains. Jisung feels his pulse quicken as Minho’s face contorts in confusion, and he can’t help but shrink into himself when the grip on his legs tightens and Minho turns to look at him.

“What does he mean?”

“Uh, I guess… Just what he said. They’re going to be surprised and happy to see you!” Jisung tries.

“Why surprised, though? Did you not tell them I’m taking you?” Minho asks. He’s mad, reasonably so, but Jisung doesn’t know what to say. It’s too late now.

“Shit.” Hyunjin looks guilty, incredibly so, and mad at himself in a way Jisung recognizes and really needs to put a stop to. But Minho needs to come first.

“I- Uh, no, I didn’t tell them. I thought you’d be a fun surprise!”

“A surprise or a secret?”

“A secret surprise,” Jisung says, framing his face with his hands and making spirit fingers. “Surprise!”

“Is that why nobody else is here tonight?” Minho asks.

“Shit, guys, I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to like… start something. I should go,” Hyunjin says, heading slowly towards the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow, though? For pictures?”

“Wait, Hyunjin, it’s not your fault. Don’t leave,” Jisung says, scrambling off the couch and jogging to his friend. “It’s fine.”

“He’s pissed,” Hyunjin whispers, glancing over at Minho. “I didn’t mean to start that.”

“That’s not your fault, it’s mine. Come on, it’s fine,” Jisung whispers back. He puts a hand on Hyunjin’s shoulder and tries to guide him back to the couch, but Hyunjin is taller and stronger than him. He doesn’t budge.

“You need to talk to him. I really need to go home anyway, it’s getting late,” Hyunjin says, a little louder now.

“How are you going to get home? It’s too far to walk.”

“I’ll take him,” Minho jumps in, standing up from the couch and walking towards them.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that. I’ll call my mom-” Hyunjin starts to say.

“No way, that’s going to take ages. Just let me drive you,” Minho insists, walking to the door to get his coat and keys. “My car’s in my driveway. Come on.”

“Minho, wait,” Jisung calls out, a little nervous to have him leave on that note. “Can I come with you guys?”

“I think it’s best if you don’t,” Minho says, face softening when he sees how nervous Jisung looks. “I’ll come back. Just wait for me here.”

“Really?”

“Of course.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Jisung,” Hyunjin says quietly, following behind Minho as they head out the door. Jisung sees Minho turn to him, say something that he can’t make out and put a comforting arm around Hyunjin’s shoulder. Sees the way Hyunjin leans into it for a moment before straightening up and saying something back before the door closes and he’s left all alone.

Of course this would blow up in his face. There’s no way he could just hide Minho’s presence from everyone and not have someone get hurt. Nor was there any way for him to hide whatever feelings are brewing beneath the surface between them without getting caught, especially from Hyunjin. Minho saw the text, they’re going to have to talk about it at some point, especially now that there’s evidence he’s spilled the beans to someone else.

But talking will lead to some kind of change, and that’s a little frightening. Too much is changing already. School is ending, he still has no idea if he got into JYPU, Hyunjin is almost certainly going to be across the country from them, and now this? Where is his sense of stability going? The foundations of his life are crumbling beneath him, and maybe it’s for the better or maybe it’s for the worse, but he’s scared shitless either way.

For now, for tonight, he really just needs to make sure Minho doesn’t go to bed pissed at him. To make sure he still has a date as well as a best friend. He’s not foolish or dramatic enough to think this type of thing would end their relationship, but with the way things have been going since Minho got home last night… hell, since last summer, the scales seem a little more prone to tipping.

It takes seventeen minutes to drive to Hyunjin’s house. He lives across town in a wealthy little cul de sac surrounded by lovely little mansions. Perks of being the son of two doctors. Seventeen minutes there and seventeen minutes back leaves Jisung thirty-four minutes to stew in his emotions and anxiety. Sitting on the couch is doing nothing for him, so he gets up and moves, paces through the house until his parents arrive home, then tries to fill some time with small talk about their day, follows his mom into the kitchen as she pulls takeout boxes from a paper bag and stores them in the fridge, tries to steal a bite of some potatoes before she swats his hand away. Oh well, he’ll have them later.

“Are we going to Hyunjin’s tomorrow?” she asks, pouring a glass of water for herself and one for Jisung.

“Huh?”

“For photos? I want nice pictures of you and Minho, I have no use for selfies,” she says.

“Oh, uh. I don’t know. Can I let you know tomorrow?” Jisung asks.

“How do you not know? The dance is tomorrow, Jisung, please tell me you’re not this disorganized?”

Before he can answer, there’s a flash of headlights in the street, and Jisung jumps up from the kitchen island. “I, uh- can I tell you tomorrow? That’s Minho, I need to check with him,” Jisung says, already jogging to the door.

“Jisung?” His mom calls out. “Can you tell me in the morning?”

“Sure,” he says, grabbing his keys and running out the door. He can’t have this conversation with his parents in the house, and if his mom catches sight of Minho she won’t let go for hours. He jogs over to Minho’s driveway, opening the passenger side door as soon as the car pulls to a stop.

“Holy shit- What are you doing?”

“Parents came back,” Jisung says. “Can’t be in there.”

Minho glances at Jisung’s form and waves him into the car. “Well, get in then. You ran outside without shoes again, for god’s sake.”

“Yeah,” Jisung says with a grimace, climbing into the car. “Didn’t seem that important.”

“Uh-huh.”

There’s silence between them, the uncomfortable kind, for the first time that Jisung can remember in years. Since Minho broke the news about leaving for a school away from home, probably. He wants to break it, knows someone needs to break it, but he can’t quite figure out how.

“So?” Minho asks, egging him on. He’s clearly not making the first move on this one (nor should he).

“Sorry. I didn’t tell anyone you were coming,” Jisung says quietly.

“You didn’t even tell Hyunjin.”

“Wh-”

“He told me. That he guessed that I was the one who asked you,” Minho says.

“What else did he tell you?”

“Let’s talk about you, ok?” Minho says. The words are harsh but his expression is soft, though it does little to ease Jisung’s nerves. “Why the hell didn’t you tell anyone? Is there a reason?”

“Well, I kept it a secret because I actually did have fun making people guess. And I wanted to see the look on their faces when you walked through the door. It seemed like fun,” Jisung says.

“Seriously? That’s it?” He asks. “Why are you so paranoid, then? You could have just told me that, I’d totally be in on the plan,” Minho says, looking at him questioningly. “Why are you so nervous about that?”

“You’d be in on that?” Jisung asks cautiously. That side of the story is easy. Digestible. It’s also not the whole truth.

“Of course. I mean, it will be funny. We can totally do that,” Minho says, grinning. Jisung tries to smile back, but it feels strained. “Hey, I’m sorry if I freaked you out,” Minho says, placing a hand on each of his cheeks and directing his head up before squeezing a little. “It’s not a big deal! If that’s all it was, I overreacted.”

“That’s not it,” Jisung admits, unable to keep up the lie when Minho is just so… Minho. Perfect. So Understanding.

“Huh?”

“I was embarrassed,” he says. Minho’s face shifts to one of surprise as he slowly lets go of Jisung’s cheeks.

“Embarrassed?”

“Yeah,” Jisung says, folding his legs up under him to get some warmth back into his toes. It’s colder outside than it was last night, and even through the car door the wind bites into him. “Because nobody asked me. Or, nobody asked me romantically. So I was embarrassed to admit that my best friend, who went to both of his own proms and doesn’t even live here anymore, felt obligated to ask me.”

“It’s not like I felt obligated, Sungie. I wanted to. Want to.”

“Yeah, I know. You’re great like that. But it’s still a little hard to admit that nobody actually liked me, like liked me, enough to ask me,”Jisung admits. “Not that I liked anyone enough to ask them either.”

“So you were embarrassed to go with me?” Minho asks, making his distaste for the statement rather clear with his tone.

“What?”

“You didn’t tell people because you’re embarrassed to be going with me. It was easier to not tell them who was taking you than to admit it was me.”

“No, Minho, it’s not like that,” Jisung says, panic rising in his chest. “It’s not because it was you. How the hell could I be embarrassed of you?”

“I don’t know, you tell me,” Minho strikes back.

“I can’t! I’m not! You’re like- you! You were one of the most popular people at school when you went there.”

“Right, but I don’t go there now. I’m just an old guy going to his old high school prom.”

“Minho, it isn’t like that. It’s embarrassment on my end. Of my character. For only being able to get like… I mean, it basically is a pity date, right? Even though you won’t call it that?”

“I already told you, I’m happy to be taking you-”

“I know, you said that,” Jisung says. “But it’s kind of hard to call it almost anything else, let’s be honest. And even if you don’t call it a pity date, it’s still one friend taking another. Not a traditional date.”

“Jisung,” Minho says quietly, grabbing onto one of his hands and squeezing. He looks like he has something important to say, and Jisung doesn’t dare to hope. He’s nervous, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth, and that makes it even harder not to make assumptions as to what may be coming. Finally Minho speaks, releasing his lip from it’s hold and making his expression soft. “A date is what you make of it,” is what finally comes out of his mouth, a near echo of the idea Hyunjin had placed in Jisung’s head a month and a half ago.

“And what does that mean?”

“It means,” Minho says quietly before clearing his throat and starting again. “It means. We have everything in place for a lovely date. Boutonnieres, suits, tickets, the ability to dance. Our devilish good looks. If you stop calling it a pity date it will just be a date.”

“Just a date?”

“A prom date,” Minho confirms.

“A normal prom date with a friend,” Jisung says.

“Oh my god. You’re the only one adding these extra terms onto it, you know that, right? Yes, I’m your friend, but… it’s a prom date. Stop adding qualifiers.”

“I see,” Jisung says. He knows what Minho is getting at, he isn’t completely daft, but hearing it come from his mouth, in the flesh, where the ability for more to happen is so viable and real would be intimidating to think about on a good day. The suggestion of something romantic still hasn’t been voiced explicitly, and maybe if he were braver Jisung would ask or try to pull it out of Minho. But he’s not, at least not yet, so he simply brushes his hand against Minho’s and lets it rest there. “Ok. A date.”

“I don’t want to wait until the dance to see my friends.”

“Ok.”

“They’re my friends too. It’s not fair that you’re trying to hide me from them.”

“I know,” Jisung says. “Sorry. We can do pictures at Hyunjin’s tomorrow, ok? Everyone will be there, we’ll just have to drive separate from them after.”

“Do I get to meet Jeongin? I never met him last summer,” Minho asks.

“Yes, you’ll meet Jeongin,” Jisung laughs. “But Seungmin is going to be there, you can’t pick fights with him.”

“The hell I can’t, that kid is a brat. I haven’t forgiven him for puking on my DS.”

“He was like twelve. You shouldn’t have fed him cotton candy for dinner.”

“His parents shouldn’t have expected a fourteen year old babysitter to cook dinner!” Minho argues back. Jisung laughs and Minho joins, loud and hearty. He’s missed that laugh, especially in person. He’ll probably miss it as soon as Minho goes back, too, even if it is only for a couple weeks. Out of everything that seems to be changing around him, there are still some things about Minho, at least, that remain the same. His laugh, his eyes, his teeth, his sense of humor. His hands haven’t really changed either, Jisung notices, only the feeling he gets in his chest when he touches them.

That’s a change he can live with.

“Minho,” Jisung says, filling the space between Minho’s fingers with his own. “I really am glad you came.”

“Well. Anything for you,” Minho says smugly, closing his hand around Jisung’s. “I can’t just abandon you now, after all this time.”

“You’re being mushy.”

“So are you.”

“I’m allowed to be mushy, it’s the night before my prom,” Jisung argues back. It’s a nice mood, one that would probably lend itself well to an honest and open discussion of their feelings. Jisung isn’t ready for that yet. “Speaking of. I should probably get my beauty sleep, huh?”

Minho locks eyes with him, a knowing look taking over, and squeezes his hand just enough to acknowledge he’s been heard. Maybe he’s not quite ready, either. “You should,” he agrees, “you need it.”

“Hey! You’re such a dick,” Jisung says with a laugh, weakly trying to pull his hand away from Minho’s. He only grabs on tighter, grinning wide and yanking Jisung’s hand closer to him.

“Yeah, well, I may be a dick but I’m still your best friend,” he says. He pulls Jisung’s hand closer and leans down, placing a small kiss to the space where their thumbs interlace and tucking their fists under his chin. “Always.”

“Mushy,” Jisung says quietly, voice laced with even more affection than earlier. “So damn mushy.”

“Yep,” Minho agrees, finally letting go of Jisung’s hand. “Now, get out of my car.”

“Huh? Oh, yeah,” Jisung says, opening the door and flinching as a breeze blows past him and his bare foot touches the cold gravel. “Hey, you don’t want to piggyback me again, do you?”

“Nope. It’s time to start learning from your mistakes, Han Jisung. You’ll be an adult soon.”

“I’m an adult now.”

“Then face the repercussions of running out here barefoot. Just don’t get glass in your foot or anything, you owe me a night of dancing,” Minho says, pushing him gently out of the car. Jisung sighs and steps out, turning to look at Minho one more time before closing the door.

“We’ll meet out here at five, ok? Head over for pictures and some food at Hyunjin’s and drive over for the dance at seven?”

“It’s a date,” Minho confirms.

“Yeah. It’s a date.”

With that he shuts the door and runs, over the freezing gravel, the dewy grass, and into the warmth of his childhood home.

Sleep comes late that night, but when it does he spends his dreams dancing across the floor with Minho, bodies pressed so close to one another they may as well become one.


	2. Fearless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Minho, what-”
> 
> “Jisung, I’m trying! Just- Just give me a minute, it’s gonna run.”
> 
> “Ok. Because it has to run. Nelson, you know you have to run, right?” Jisung says, leaning forward and resting his forehead on the glove department. “We’re going to prom. We look good as hell. No way you’re gonna ruin this for me, right? My last big event before graduation?” There’s no sound from the driver’s side, an almost eerie silence, and when Jisung turns his head Minho is leaned against the steering wheel in an almost pleading position. “Minho?”
> 
> “Jisung, I don’t want to say this,” he mutters under his breath, “but I think-”
> 
> uh oh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahahahaha the source of the failed plans tag. Don't be mad I promise that it's for the best. Also I have no idea why this chapter is coming up double spaces and the first is single and I'm trying to fix it but I still wanted to get it up.

The Day of Prom

“Felix, why couldn’t you have come over here to help me get ready?” Jisung whines, phone propped up against his bathroom mirror in a video call with his friend. “I need you.”

“Not as much as Hyunjin needed me, he’s freaking the hell out. You know how he gets before big events. I’m sorry, Sungie,” Felix says apologetically.

“But _I’m_ freaking the hell out too!”

“You seem fine, Jisung. Hey, is your date coming over here with you for pictures? What if they get here before you? Who am I supposed to let in?”

“Huh? Oh, we’re driving over together. The moms will come in different cars,” Jisung says. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Felix look at him suspiciously through the screen, but he doesn’t voice whatever might be on his mind. 

“Well, I hope they’re pleasant,” he finally says.

“They’re very pleasant. You’ll love them,” Jisung responds. It’s the truth, Felix and Minho have always gotten along swimmingly, though they aren’t nearly as close as he is with Hyunjin or Jisung. There should be nothing to worry about.

But he’s freaking out. Last night he almost let everything spill, and Minho all but did the same. They’d texted a little bit this morning, just confirming the times for everything before starting to get ready on their own, but he’s been too nervous to carry on a conversation. 

_It’s a date._

But is it really?

“Jisung, you’re going a little heavy on the eyeliner, no?”

“Huh?” Jisung removes the eye pencil he’s been using from his waterline and blinks, nearly jumping back when he sees how heavy-handed he’d been. “Oh, shit. Fuck, I need a q-tip,” he says, bending down to shuffle through his bathroom cabinets until he finds something to blur the offending makeup away. 

“You must really like this person to be so nervous,” Felix says, smiling at him pleasantly. 

_Oh, if only you knew._

“Uh, something like that,” Jisung responds. “Is this better? Do I look ok? You’re so much better at this than I am.”

“It looks good, Sungie.”

“Is Seungmin with you guys yet?”

“No,” Felix sighs. “No, his mom and dad wanted to see him get ready and lecture him or something. I don’t know, they’re strict. But he should get here around the same time as you. Which, by the way, is in like thirty minutes. Shouldn’t you get your suit on?”

“What? Shit! Yeah, ok. Makeup is good, right? And my hair?”

“Coiffed to perfection,” Felix agrees, giving an encouraging thumbs up. 

“Ok. I’ll see you guys soon,” Jisung says, stripping off his pants as he hangs up the call and runs down his hallway. He nearly collides with his father, who simply gives him a worried look and claps him on the back.

“It’s just a dance, son,” are his sage words of wisdom.

“Yeah,” Jisung agrees. “Just a dance.”

“But I’m glad you’re going this year. If I remember correctly, all you did last year was sulk around the house. It was annoying.”

“Well thanks, dad. Sorry to have been a bother,” Jisung quips back.

“Just have fun this year and all will be forgotten.”

“Great. I’m running late though. Can’t go without pants,” Jisung calls out while running to his room. There his suit hangs, expertly steamed with the help of his mother. He’s still happy with the choice, Hyunjin really never misses with this kind of thing, and when he’s fully dressed and finally admires himself in the mirror he can’t help but think that he looks pretty good. 

Good enough for Minho? _To be determined._

He’s cut off from getting too deep into that thought by a knock on his door quickly followed by his mother’s head poking through.

“Why do you knock if you aren’t going to let me answer?”

“Custom, I suppose,” Jisung’s mom responds with a cheeky grin. “Minho is here.”

“Now? He’s early,” Jisung says, glancing at the clock in the corner in his room. _Well, two minutes early._

“He looks dashing. As do you,” she says, walking up and straightening his tie. “I’m proud of you, my love.”

“For what?”

“For everything. But tonight, for going to prom. And with such a lovely date.”

“Mom,” Jisung whines, rolling his eyes. “I get it, you wish he were your son. He’s lovely. But you’re stuck with me for a few more months. ”

“Oh, please. I love you dearly, you know that. But yes, he is rather lovely,” his mother says with a wink. “He’d be a good son.”

“Oh my-”

“I’m just _saying,_ ” she continues, cutting Jisung off mid complaint. “I’m saying if something were to happen, he’s lovely. And theoretically, I would approve.”

“What? Mom, where is this coming from? I’ve known him eighteen years, why is this being brought up now?”

“Well he drove all the way here and he looks so lovely. And you’re always brighter when he’s here, noticeably so. Just a mothers observation,” she says. “But you’re keeping him waiting now.”

“But you’re the one-”

“Jisung, downstairs.”

Jisung sighs, knowing he has no chance with this conversation. Now it’s not just the universe giving him signs, or the rise of his heartbeat or the sweat on his palms; now even his mother seems to be pushing him into Minho’s arms. He makes his way to the top of the staircase, pausing when he sees Minho waiting at the bottom looking like god damn prince charming. _Maybe he wouldn’t mind being pushed into those arms._

“Well, Cinderella? You coming down?”

“Huh?” Jisung answers, trying to stop himself from gawking. Minho’s got his hair slicked back on one side, a hint of bang hanging down in the front, and his suit is flawless. Upon further inspection, it’s actually the same suit he wore to his own senior prom, but two years and a little bit of tailoring has sure made a difference. A slim silver tie hangs from his neck, a matching pocket square resting on his chest. If there’s one word to describe how Jisung feels at this moment, it’s _outclassed._

“I said, are you coming down? I’m all for you having your princess moment, you look awesome, but it’d be nice to have you on the same floor as me,” Minho says with a laugh.

“Oh, yeah,” Jisung says, scrambling down the stairs. His toe nearly catches on the last one, sending him stumbling forward with a little more force than necessary. But maybe Minho really is a prince, at least for the night, because Jisung feels sturdy arms catch him and keep him in place. When he looks up Minho is a nose length away, looking at him like he’s trying not to laugh. “Ah. Thanks.”

“You aren’t allowed to injure yourself, remember? You promised me a couple dances.”

“I’m fine,” Jisung says, stepping back and shaking out his limbs. “Perfectly fit for dancing.”

“Minho!”

The room turns to look as a head pops through the Han’s front door and opens it, waving something in her hands. Minho’s mom.

“Minho, you forgot these!” she says, holding up two clear plastic boxes with something red in each of them. 

“Ah, shit! I mean, thank you,” Minho says, flustering as he moves to grab the items from his mom. 

“Hello, Mrs. Lee!”

“Hello, handsome!” Mrs. Lee responds, walking over to Jisung and putting a hand on either shoulder. “Oh, you look so good, Sungie! Spin for me!” she says, pushing him a little to the right. Jisung laughs and follows her guidance, spinning slowly for her to take a look. 

“Do I? I do, right?”

“The best you’ve ever looked,” she agrees, letting go of his shoulders and brushing them off. “Doesn’t he, Minho?”

“I don’t know, remember that one time the yard flooded and he tripped in a mud puddle? He looked really good then,” Minho chuckles.

“Minho!”

“He looks phenomenal, mom. You look phenomenal, Jisung,” Minho deadpans, turning from his mother to Jisung. 

“Give him the flowers!” Mrs. Lee trills.

“I’m working on it!”

“Give me the flowers, Minho,” Jisung repeats, laughing when his date glares at him. 

“Your boutonniere, sir,” Minho says quietly, opening one of the boxes to show off a small, dark red rose arrangement peppered with little white hints of baby's breath. 

“Pretty,” Jisung coos, picking it up and sniffing it. “And it smells nice. Thank you, sir.”

“I’m glad it matches your tie,” Minho says, lowering his voice so the mothers can’t hear. Not that it makes much of a difference, they’ve already gravitated towards each other and are engaged in some conversation Jisung can’t make out. “You know, it was a real pain in the ass not showing me what you were wearing.”

“But worth the surprise, right?” Jisung asks with a grin. 

“Sure, Sungie. Here, hand that over, let me pin it,” he says, gingerly removing the floral arrangement from Jisung’s hand. He carefully pins it to Jisung’s pocket, adjusting the silk kerchief he’d bought to match his tie around it. “Perfect.”

“My turn,” Jisung says. He grabs the second box from Minho’s hand and reveals a matching arrangement, then puts all his focus into steadying his hands and pinning it to Minho without piercing his skin. They’re close like this, too close for comfort, and once again Jisung is reminded of the new ways his body reacts to Minho being in his space. He smells good, like amber and oud, and it’s hard to focus with the smell invading his nostrils and making him want to lean closer and...

“Ow!”

“What? Did I get you? Shit, don’t bleed on your shirt, hold it in!” Jisung says in a panicked voice as he pulls his hand back.

“Hold it in? What the hell does that mean,” Minho cackles, moving his jacket to the side to show his shirt. “I was just kidding anyway, but holy shit, what? _Hold it in._ ”

“Shut up, Minho, I’m trying here. You’re distracting me.”

“I’m literally just standing here.”

“Yeah, but…” Jisung starts, cutting off the end of the sentence as he finishes pinning the boutonniere to Minho’s suit. 

“But?”

“Are you wearing cologne?” he blurts out.

“Oh. Yeah, I am. I got it with my holiday bonus, is it too strong? I don’t wear it that much,” Minho says, backing away a little and doing his best to shove his nose into his own collar and sniff.

“No, it’s good,” Jisung says quietly. “Wait, should I be wearing cologne?”

“I mean, I don’t think it’s a requirement-”

“I’m gonna go put some on! Wait here!” Jisung says, sprinting up the stairs into his room to dig through a drawer of rarely used junk. He knows he has cologne in here, even if it is a gift from his aunt from Christmas four years ago. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” Jisung curses under his breath when it’s not in the drawer. “Shit!” 

“Jisung?”

He turns to see his father standing in the hallway outside his door, looking concerned and confused. 

“Yeah?”

“What are you doing?” his dad asks, stepping cautiously into the room.

“I’m- I need cologne. Minho is wearing cologne and he smells really good and I can’t find my cologne,” Jisung responds.

“You threw it out last year, remember? It smelled expired so mom tossed it?”

“Shit! I mean… rats! What do I do? I can’t go covered in AXE,” Jisung whines.

“I’m sure Younghyun left some here, why don’t you go raid his room?” his father suggests.

“It’s full of moms office stuff, though,”

“I’m sure there’s a drawer of his stuff in there. Come on, let’s check,” he says warmly, putting an arm around Jisung’s shoulder.

“He’s going to get mad.”

“Jisung, if your brother used any of this stuff on a regular basis he wouldn’t have left it here. And he’s not going to notice three pumps of cologne missing, either,” his father says, guiding Jisung into his brothers-ex-room-moms-current-home-office. There’s a worn chest of drawers in the corner that Jisung watches his father sort through as he shifts from leg to leg until two dusty bottles of cologne are procured. “They’re both probably old, but take your pick.”

Jisung sniffs the first one, recoiling at the strong citrus scent that comes out and sticking out his tongue. “Yuck.”

“Jisung?” his dad asks from behind him, hovering a few feet back.

“Yeah?” Jisung answers. The second bottle is nice and seems all but untouched, a fresh scent that reminds him of rain and green forests.

“Since when do you wear cologne?”

“Minho is wearing cologne.”

Jisung spritzes himself with his new find, twice on his wrists and once on his neck like he’s seen his mother do his entire life. 

“Ah, of course. Minho is doing it, so Jisung must do it too. The old Lee-Han joint family tradition.”

“Oh, come on, it’s not like that,” Jisung laughs. “I don’t know how to do formal events and he does. I want to do this right.”

“Minho wouldn’t care if you rolled around in dog shit before the prom,” his dad says, laughing when Jisung whips around to glare at him. 

“I’m not rolling in dog shit before prom.”

“You’re not even going to make it to prom if you keep messing around up here,” his dad shoots back. Jisung nods and grabs the bottle of cologne, making a quick stop at his room to toss it on his bed before running downstairs. _What Younghyun doesn’t know can’t hurt him._

“Smell me,” Jisung says when he gets downstairs, shoving his wrist into Minho’s face. His friend grabs it instinctually, but follows the order and leans in slowly to sniff it before sending a supportive smile Jisung’s way. “Cologne.”

“I smell it. Very nice,” he says, slowly bringing Jisung’s wrist down and out of his face. “Completely not necessary, but nice.”

“Is it?”

“It’s nice, Jisung,” he says again, sniffing the air around Jisung and patting him gently on the head. “Really nice.”

“Don’t mess up my prom hair, I spent ages on it.”

“Your hair is fine, you big baby. We need to go,” Minho responds, smoothing down Jisung’s locks with a light touch. 

“Boys? Mrs. Lee and I are going to drive in my car if you’re taking Minho’s. We’ll meet you there, ok?” Mrs. Han calls out, pulling them out of the moment and pushing them into action. 

“Yeah,” Jisung says, clearing his throat to center himself. If he’s going to slip up like that it’s no wonder his mother is bringing up whatever he has going on with Minho. “We’ll meet you there. You ready?” he asks, turning to Minho.

“Ready,” Minho responds, holding his elbow out. “Take my arm please, my lovely date.”

“It would be my honor, my lovely date,” Jisung repeats back, laughing when he sees Minho’s eyes crinkle up in a smile. He also sees Mrs. Lee nudge his mother and whisper something to her, but chooses to ignore that as they head out the door. With his free hand he pats his pocket, making sure the tickets are secure inside his suit coat, then waves goodbye to his dad at the top of the stairs.

For such a special day, mother nature has not chosen to cooperate with his school in terms of picture-taking weather. It’s decently warm, but the sky is gray and dull, filled with a light mist that Jisung and Minho have to sprint through to get to the station wagon.

While he’s had a gentle hum of nerves all day, it’s not until he gets into the car with Minho that he notices his heart beating loud in his ears. He should try to make this a normal night, he _wants_ to behave like a normal person and make memories he can cherish for a lifetime, but all he can think of right now is _Minho._ Minho in his suit, Minho wearing a matching floral pin, Minho cursing at his steering wheel as the car refuses to start once again.

“Come on Nelson, not tonight. It’s a big night,” Minho whispers, turning his key in the ignition one last time. It finally roars to a start, and Minho releases a sigh as he slumps over the wheel. “Thank you.”

“Nelson wouldn’t do us dirty like that,” Jisung assures him, patting Minho on the back of the head. “He knows what’s in our best interest, and our best interest is going to prom!”

“Sure is,” Minho agrees, backing out of the driveway and making his way towards Hyunjin’s place. “He’s taken me to two before, and those were terrible compared to this. No way he’d let me down for this one.”

“We haven’t even been to this one yet, let me remind you,” Jisung teases. “I could be a shit date.”

“You can’t be a worse date to me than I was to Sooyoung.”

“Fair point.”

“And I have a feeling you won’t disappoint,” Minho says, smiling to himself as he cranks the radio on quietly.

“I’m doing my best.”

He wants to make some funny joke, tease Minho or shoot some sarcastic remark back at him to keep the mood up, but his heart’s not in it. Instead it’s beating a thousand miles an hour, hard and fast and overwhelming. It’s impossible to ignore, and makes it hard to focus on anything else. _This is happening._

Minho lets things go silent for a while, turning the radio up a bit to make up for Jisung’s lack of words. He can sense the tone is off, he always can, but Jisung appreciates the couple minutes of quiet he’s given to get himself together.

“Are you ok?” Minho asks after a while, briefly turning to look at him. “You kind of look like you’re going to be sick.”

“I’m not going to be sick,” Jisung says quietly.

“Why don’t you look happy, then?”

“I am happy. It’s just also… this is it. The last big thing in high school before graduation,” Jisung says, only just realizing the pressure that’s been building on him as he says it.

“Aw, it’s not so huge of a thing, I swear,” Minho says, only to be met with more silence. “Is there anything I can do to make it better?”

“No,” Jisung replies quickly. “No, the fact that you’re even here is enough.” He sees Minho smile at that, warm and fond like there’s nowhere he’d rather be. Jisung can’t help himself, he reaches his left hand over Minho's free right one and latches on, a reminder of last night that he really doesn’t want to let go of. Minho squeezes tight but doesn’t say anything, keeping his eyes on the road as they get closer and closer to Hyunjin’s place. “Thanks again.”

“Thank me after you see how splendid of a date and dance partner I am,” Minho chuckles. They’re in the cul-de-sac now, and Jisung can make out Hyunjin’s house both from years of recognition and an array of cars littered on the street nearby, overflow from the parents who couldn’t fit in the driveway. “Holy shit,” Minho whispers under his breath, “is every student in the senior class coming to his place?”

“No,” Jisung laughs, “Just Seungmin, Felix, Hyunjin, and Jeongin. Their parents must have all come too.”

“Why couldn’t we just equip one doting mother with six cameras and save the crowd?”

“Aw, I think it’s sweet. We’ll have so many angles to choose from,” Jisung says, clicking off his seatbelt when they find the closest spot they can to Hyunjin’s place. Minho leans into the back of his car to find an umbrella for them to share, and Jisung huddles close as he walks around and opens the passenger door to keep them both guarded. The fine mist from not twenty minutes ago has evolved into a light drizzle, and Jisung has a feeling it’s only going to get worse from here. They jog inside, shoulder to shoulder, and wait patiently at the door after knocking until it opens to reveal a very frazzled Seungmin.

“Wha- you?” Jisung’s classmate asks, jaw dropped and eyes wide. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Hey, Seungminnie~” Minho sing-songs, waving his fingers in a teasing fashion at him. 

“Jisung, come on. This guy? I hate this guy,” Seungmin says, staring pointedly in his direction. 

“Aw, come on Seungmin. As long as you don’t hurl on him he’ll be nice to you,” Jisung says with a laugh. “Right, Minho?”

“Not sure yet.”

“Can we come inside?” Jisung asks. Seungmin is still standing with his arm on the door, blocking entry for both of them, and the rain is starting to come down harder. “Please?”

“You can,” Seungmin says, holding the door open and offering a way in for Jisung while he plants an arm in front of Minho. “Not him.”

“Who is it? Is that Jisung?” they hear Hyunjin call from inside. His face appears a few moments later as he pops up under Seungmin’s arm and pulls him back, clearing the doorway for everyone to come inside. “Hi, Jisung. Hi, Minho.”

“You knew about this?” Seungmin asks, gawking at the three of them. “Of course you did, what am I asking? You couldn’t tell me?”

“Oh, please, Seungmin. You’re being dramatic, I know you two are friends.”

“I don’t want to go to prom with my babysitter!”

“I’m not your babysitter anymore, Minnie. Move on,” Minho says, patting him condescendingly on the head. Seungmin glares but seems to admit defeat, slumping his shoulders down before wandering out of the entryway into the living room.  
  
  


There’s a reason Hyunjin’s house had been the obvious place to do this; marble floors and an intricate staircase greet visitors at the door, the living room is grand, spacious, and tastefully decorated, the backyard is sprawling and beautiful on a clear day. It’s a stunning home that would make for a noteworthy background of any photoshoot.

But today the elegant atmosphere seems to be clouded by one of disarray; there are raincoats tossed over the railing, mothers and fathers alternating between making small talk with one another and fussing over their sons and their respective dates. Within moments Jisung and Minho’s mothers appear, Mrs. Lee causing a fuss over all the parents she hasn’t seen since Minho left for school two years back. Jisung and Minho sneak into the living room on their own, only for Felix to catch sight of Minho and tackle him into a running hug.

“You’re here!” he cries, leaning back to inspect Minho carefully.

“I am.”

“You’re the date! I knew you were the date, of course you’re the date,” Felix says decidedly, pulling away from his older friend and pushing him to Jisung’s side. “Yep. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“What do you mean, you _knew_ he was the date? You pestered me more than anyone,” Jisung rebutes, looking between Felix and Minho.

“Yeah, but like I said, we know everyone at school and nobody was going with you. So who else could it be? Plus, he’s Minho.”

“What does that mean?” Jisung questions.

“It means,” Seungmin chimes in, walking up behind Felix and laying a hand on his shoulder, “that for some reason, you insist on being attached at the hip to this guy. Even though he’s the worst.”

“I’m the greatest. Be careful what you say or I’ll punish you. If I remember correctly, your mom gave me permission to put tabasco on your tongue if you swore,” Minho says quietly. “Where is your mom, by the way? I should say hi.”

“Not necessary.”

“Oh, I disagree,” Minho says, looking around the room until he spots Seungmin’s mom. “Mrs. Kim!” he calls out before squeezing Jisung on the shoulder and jogging away. He sees Seungmin’s mother’s face light up in delight before pulling him into a hug, then holding him away to inspect him. 

“Seungmin!” she calls out, waving her son over. Jisung chuckles as she sees Mrs. Kim position the boys together for a couple of photos, bursting into all-out laughter when Seungmin holds his hand to Minho’s head to accentuate his height advantage. 

“I totally knew it was him, by the way,” Felix whispers loudly into Jisung’s ear. 

“Yeah, well, you and Hyunjin both,” Jisung replies. 

“What about Hyunjin?”

The man himself appears in front of them, Jeongin in tow via a linked elbow.

“Felix says he knew about my date. As did you,” Jisung explains.

“As did I,” Jeongin adds.

“No fucking way, you literally don’t even _know_ Minho.”

“Yeah, but my boyfriend does,” Jeongin says, a devilish grin growing on his face.

“Oh, and your boyfriend has loose lips, does he?” Jisung asks, squaring up to Hyunjin with his fists in fighting position. “Despite telling me it would be a secret.”

“Boyfriend privilege,” Hyunjin says, mimicking his pose. Jisung throws a fake punch in his direction and Hyunjin fake blocks it, then hides behind Jeongin for protection. “He got it out of me.”

“So did I do all this for nothing? Is there anyone who’s actually fucking surprised?”

The four boys turn to look at their friends across the room, very reluctantly still posing for photos, this time from Minho’s mother.

“Seungmin.”

They round up shortly after that in a group directed by Hyunjin’s mother. Mrs. Hwang is small but mighty, lining them all up on the staircase from shortest couple to tallest, and Jisung and Minho begrudgingly take their place on the bottom of the stairs. He wants to fight for a spot at the top, but certainly not with her. It’s warm, the way Minho’s arms wrap around his waist from behind in the standard prom date pose, and as much as Jisung tries to will the flush away he won’t be the slightest bit surprised if he gets the photos back to see himself with a bright pink face full of fluster.

“Ok! Time for couples pictures! Four of you move, two of you stay!” Mrs. Hwang calls out, shooing them off the stairs. Hyunjin and Jeongin stay for pictures while Seungmin leads Felix down the stairs with a hand to his hip and Minho mimics the same. His touch burns hotter than ever on Jisung’s waist in front of an audience.

He glances up at his date, at his smile and his eyes and the way his posture seems brighter than usual as they wait for pictures. “Are you having fun?” Jisung asks quietly.

“I am. Aren’t you?”

“We haven’t even gotten to the dance yet,” Jisung responds with a soft laugh.

“Yeah, but it’s good to see everyone again.”

“Even Seungmin?” Jisung questions teasingly. Minho laughs and pulls him a little bit closer, leaning into Jisung’s space more and more.

“What about Seungmin?” a voice calls out, shocking both Minho and Jisung and causing them to whip their heads in the direction of the couple waiting with them. Felix seems cheerful as ever, though Seungmin is standing with his arms crossed in his most intimidating pose. It doesn’t do much but make the rest of them laugh.

“Yes, I suppose it’s even good to see Seungmin.” 

“But I’m your favorite,” Jisung sing-songs, clutching on to Minho’s arms wrapped around him. Suddenly he’s being squeezed even tighter, then his feet hover off the ground as Minho spins him once around. “Hey, careful! Don’t crumple the suit!”

“Sure, Sungie,” he says mockingly, laughing as he drops him back down to the floor. “Sorry. Just overtaken by my overwhelming fondness.”

“Please, you know it’s true,” Jisung says, finally starting to feel like himself again now that they’re around friends.

“If that’s what you want to believe.”

“I believe it,” Felix chimes in, laughing loudly when Minho glares at him. His arms don’t leave their place around Jisung’s waist, making the threatening look decidedly less piercing and impactful. As much as they butt heads, Minho and Seungmin both have a knack for trying and failing at intimidation tactics. The younger must have learnt it from his sitter at a young age. “It doesn’t take much to figure out how whipped you are.”

“Ok! Next couple!” Mrs. Hwang belts out, snapping them out of the moment. Hyunjin and Jeongin jog down a moment later, pushing Seungmin and Felix towards the staircase. 

“What did we miss?” Hyunjin asks. 

“How Minho loves me more than you.”

“Yeah, no shit.” Hyunjin stares pointedly at their positioning to prove his point, but Jisung only grabs on to Minho’s wrists to keep him in place.

“Jealous,” he says, sticking out his tongue.

“Jealous,” Minho parrots. “You should have lived closer.”

“You three are funny,” Jeongin laughs. The three turn to look at him, a little thrown off. “You’re just funny together. Hyunjin talks about Minho all the time, but he makes him sound like some kind of demon. But he’s so nice to Jisung. And Jisung and Hyunjin are always butting heads and making up, but you’re like… gross and mushy around Minho. It’s just funny.”

“I’m not mushy,” Jisung starts to protest, though he’s shortly cut off by the shrill sound of Mrs. Hwang’s voice and ushered to the staircase by Minho. 

“You’re totally mushy,” he whispers as they make their way to a center position, holding back his laughter with a smirk.

“And I’m totally your favorite,” Jisung whispers back, linking his arm with Minho’s at the direction of his mother. Minho says nothing for a few moments, distracted with the poses they’re being talked into, until he finds himself being held from the back by Minho once again. 

“Yeah, fine, you are,” Minho finally answers, cupping a hand to Jisung’s ear and speaking softly to him, statement going completely over their little audience’s heads. Jisung has to fight not to spin in his arms, to see whatever expression is on Minho’s face for himself as he feeds Jisung words that would make anyone go crazy. But they’re not alone, their parents and friends are watching, and as much pressure and encouragement they all seem to have for Jisung and Minho potentially being _something_ , this isn’t the place to figure it out.

Jisung releases a breath as they finish their photos up, blood rushing in his ears with the excitement of everything going on; parents buzzing around, friends joking and laughing together for what will likely be the last formal school-run event they all attend at the same time, pizza being delivered to serve them all before the dance. Jisung goes through the motions of being a person, a strange sort of detachment lingering in his mind, with Minho at his side. A hand on his waist, a slight adjustment when his pin gets knocked out of place, a napkin handed to him without asking when he gets pizza sauce on his chin; Minho apparently knows what Jisung needs to stay running smoothly, even after all this time apart. He thinks back to what Minho said last night, about the connotation he had put on this thing when he should really just take it at face value.

At face value, Minho feels like a damn good date.

Pizza disappears piece by piece until the clock ticks down and it’s time to go. The venue isn’t far, 30 minutes on the highway or 45 on side streets, a hotel that was once grand and luxurious but now really only seems to have its ballroom going for it based on what Jisung’s heard. Parents watch from the safety of Hyunjin’s porch as the group of highschoolers (plus Minho) run from the house to their cars, Seungmin’s mom laughing and snapping pictures as they try to avoid the downpour. The weather has only gotten worse, as expected, and Jisung and Minho wave a quick goodbye to the others as they clamor into Hyunjin’s car. It’s a stark contrast, the four of them squeezing into the luxury sedan his parents bought as a 16th birthday gift while Jisung and Minho shuffle into the beat up station wagon. They certainly look a little bit more ready for the occasion in their suits and fancy car.

“Made it. Is my hair soaked through?” Minho asks, grabbing Jisung’s attention from where he’s been staring out the window at his friends. 

“Huh? No, it’s fine. Mine?”

“It’s good,” Minho responds, reaching over and moving a lock back into place. “Perfect now. You ready?”

“Ready,” Jisung nods. Minho cranks the radio on, though the music is pretty significantly drowned out by the rain outside and the sound of the car roaring to a start. It’s really pouring, a steady stream making its way down the windows, and he can barely see outside the passenger window without squinting. “Can you see alright?”

“I can see fine,” Minho says, backing slowly out of Hyunjin’s driveway. “It’s getting worse though, I think I might take side streets. The highway is bound to be packed.”

“Sure,” Jisung agrees.

He likes driving with Minho, taking back roads and looking at the scenery, he always has. There’s not much scenery now with the darkening sky, but the car is filled with the sound of music and Minho chattering about his finals next week. Jisung tries to contribute, but his favorite playlist is on and at certain points he finds himself humming along more than actually replying to Minho’s statements. His best friend doesn’t seem to mind, even hums along himself when he seems to get the vibe that Jisung is distracted.

“What are you thinking about?” Minho finally asks, twenty minutes into the drive. Jisung has been staring out the window for the past few songs, watching through the rain as the buildings of their town disappear into farmland while they cross the empty stretch into the larger neighboring town where prom is being held. They’ve passed a petting zoo that he, Hyunjin, and Minho used to visit each summer and the sledding hill they’d go to on snowy winter days. 

“I’m just looking outside. If I get into JYPU, I won’t really see much more of this stuff,” Jisung says quietly.

“ _When_ you get into JYPU.”

“Yeah, I guess. I don’t know, though. Graduation is coming, I’ve had an acceptance letter from the local college for ages. It’s looking tempting lately.”

“You’re not going there,” Minho says firmly. Jisung turns to look at him, and even with his eyes focused sharply on the road there’s an expression of determination mixed with nervousness that he can’t quite ignore. Maybe Minho misses him just as much as he misses Minho?

“It’s not like I want to.”

“Good. Because I made sure the couch in my apartment is really comfortable, so we can have our regular movie nights without watching different screens again,” Minho chides. Jisung laughs at that, though if those movie nights are anything like last night he’s not sure how long he’ll be able to hold out.

“I appreciate you buying a whole couch with me in mind. What do I owe you?”

“Your company.”

“Trying my best.” It’s quiet for a few moments after that, until Minho breaks it again.

“You’ll still be able to see those things. You’ll always come back home for breaks and stuff, it’s not like the town will disappear when you leave.”

“Yeah, but it’ll be different. More like a visit and less like my normal surroundings. And who knows if everyone will be here at the same time?”

“Aw, Sungie. They will be. For summer break, at the very least,” Minho says comfortingly. Jisung is about to say something more, maybe mask his nerves in a faux complaint about how Minho hadn’t even come back for winter break, but something catches his eye on the side of the road before he can get anything out. 

“What’s that up there?” The road has been empty for the past couple of miles, most people going to prom likely having opted to take the highway, but a small sedan is pulled over on the shoulder in front of them with its hazards flashing in the rain. 

“They must be having trouble,” Minho says. “I’m gonna pull over. Make sure they’re ok. Ok?”

“Of course.”

Minho pulls up behind the car and flashes his lights, probably hoping for some kind of signal back from the other driver, maybe for them to get out and explain the situation. Neither happens, and even after a solid minute of waiting the other car gives no response to them. Minho sighs and unbuckles his seatbelt, then reaches into the back seat of his car to pull out a green and white striped umbrella. He turns the key in his ignition off, so the engine cuts out but the lights stay on. “Minho?”

“I’m just gonna make sure they’re ok,” Minho says, bracing himself and wrapping a hand around the handle of his door. “I’ll be quick. Maybe they just need a tow-truck or something.”

“This is how people get kidnapped,” Jisung says, a nervous feeling in his gut. 

“I’m not going to get kidnapped. I’m very fast.”

“Yeah, sure,” Jisung says, swallowing hard. “But I’m serious, ok?”

“I know. I’m going.”

“Be careful, please.”

“Always,” Minho says, leaning closer to pinch at Jisung’s cheek before opening his door and jogging to the car while still opening his umbrella. Jisung watches him walk up to the drivers side door, keeping his distance but leaning in a bit to see inside the window. Not three seconds later, a car horn sounds, and Minho scuttles backwards away from the door and back towards Jisung and the wagon. The small sedan rips forward at breakneck speed, leaving Minho in its wake and Jisung confused as all hell until the door opens and Minho climbs back into the car wordlessly. 

“What happened? What the hell was that?”

“Uh-” Minho starts, slapping his face a few times to get himself back to attention. “Uh, they were fine. More than fine.”

“Huh?”

“It was a couple. They were doing… couple things. You know. Pants down couple things.”

Jisung blinks in surprise, unsure what to say to that. “Oh. Well, good for them I guess?” he tries, his voice wavering as he tries to decide whether to laugh or comfort his date. In the end he can’t hold out and bursts into a giggle, surprising Minho until he eventually joins along. 

“Don’t laugh at me,” Minho says, a bit hypocritical through his fit of giggles. “I’m traumatized.”

“I thought you were ‘liberated’, Mr. College Student.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to see _that._ I did not consent to watching some girl struggling to bend over in her prom dress and give her date road head,” he argues back, buckling himself back into the car and starting to turn the ignition.

“Oh my god! I didn’t want details!” Jisung cries out, wiping tears from his eyes and leaning back into his seat. He hears the engine moan and wail, but pays the familiar sound no mind.

“Neither did I! But here I am, trying to take you to prom, concerned my eyesight may be wavering all because I wanted to do a good deed,” Minho sighs, turning his key in the engine again to no avail. “And my fucking car is being a dick.”

“He has been all weekend. You should really get him fixed,” Jisung says, patting the top of the dashboard. “Come on Nelson, you’ve got this.” Minho pulls the keys all the way from the ignition and tries again, barely getting a sputter this time. Jisung looks at the dashboard nervously, actually starting to get concerned. “We’ve got this, right?”

“Of course,” Minho says quietly, trying again. The sound the car lets out can only be described as pathetic, and Jisung can see Minho’s shoulders start to slump. 

“Minho, what-”

“Jisung, I’m trying! Just- Just give me a minute, it’s gonna run.”

“Ok. Because it has to run. Nelson, you know you have to run, right?” Jisung says, leaning forward and resting his forehead on the glove department. “We’re going to prom. We look good as hell. No way you’re gonna ruin this for me, right? My last big event before graduation?” There’s no sound from the driver’s side, an almost eerie silence, and when Jisung turns his head Minho is leaned against the steering wheel in an almost pleading position. “Minho?”

“Jisung, I don’t want to say this,” he mutters under his breath, “but I think-”

“Then don’t say it! Let’s go look at the engine. Do you have another umbrella? I’ll help,” Jisung says, desperate to be in any other situation but _this._

“Jisung-”

“No. Because it’s prom, and we have to show up to show off to Hyunjin on the dance floor. It’s _prom_ , Minho. You drove all the way here,” Jisung says, voice breaking halfway through. He doesn’t want to be a baby, he’s supposed to be an adult. Minho said he was an adult. So he’s not going to cry or throw a fit, he’s going to find a solution. “Come on, let’s go look.”

“Jisung, it’s useless. I’m not a mechanic, I can’t do anything about this,” Minho says quietly. “I’m sorry.”

“So what then? What do we do?”

“I’m gonna call a tow truck.” Minho pulls out his phone to start dialing, and Jisung pulls out his own phone and stares down at it, debating what to say to his friends.

“Do you think… do you think that we can get it towed and still make it before the dance is over?”

“I’ll ask about the wait time. It’s not impossible,” Minho responds, hitting dial on his phone and bringing it up to his ear. He’s sullen, and Jisung can tell he’s staying quiet in an effort not to let his frustration boil over. He zones the conversation out, trying to give Minho as much space as he can, instead focusing on texting his friends an update on their status. They’d taken the highway, and while there seems to be some kind of traffic holdup they’re apparently moving at a slow and steady space. They’ll get to the dance fashionably late. Jisung holds onto the hope that maybe someone can get him and Minho soon. They’re only about twenty minutes out from either town, and maybe once they drop the car off at the repair shop he and Minho can catch another ride to the dance. Seungmin mimics the idea.

The universe does not.

“50 minutes,” Minho says definitively, hanging up his phone and putting it in one of the car's cup holders. “A tow-truck will be here in 50 minutes.”

“But we’re not even twenty minutes away. Why fifty minutes?”

“Because there was a crash on the highway and they’re dealing with that first. We aren’t their first priority right now,” he sighs, finally turning to look at Jisung. “I really am sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. You were just trying to do the right thing,” Jisung says, trying to put on an encouraging smile. Sure, maybe Minho should have gotten his car checked. And pulling over wasn’t an absolute necessity, but it seemed like the right thing to do. This sucks. It really sucks. But it’s not his place to blame Minho for what seems to be the universe playing a joke on the both of them. 

“You really wanted to go to prom, though,” Minho whispers, pulling one of Jisung’s hands into his own and squeezing tight. “You should be able to go.”

“Well, I-” Jisung starts, trying to think of something positive to say. Unfortunately, he comes up empty. “Yeah, I did. But we can’t just leave the car, right? I’m sure prom is overrated anyway, that’s what most adults say.” 

“Yeah, but you really wanted to go. I _know_ you really wanted to go, I wouldn’t be here if you didn’t.”

“It is what it is.”

“You should go,” Minho says firmly. 

“What?”

“Without me. I can’t leave the car, but you can call an Uber or something. Or get someone to pick you up. You should go.”

“What are you talking about, I’m not just going to leave you here alone,” Jisung argues, furrowing his brows in confusion. 

_Go without Minho?_

What’s the point?

“It’s my fault we’re stuck, and that we couldn’t all fit in one car, and that we pulled over. You were so excited to dance and stuff,” Minho replies. “Call a car! Go dance and stuff. I’ll try to make it when my car is dropped off.”

“No!”

“Jisung-”

“I don’t want to dance alone. I want to dance with you!”

“I’m trying to give you a halfway here, Sungie.”

“Well, I don’t want it,” Jisung says. “That option sucks. I’d rather wait with you and take our chances.”

“But you want to go to your prom.”

Jisung takes a deep breath and repositions them so both of Minho’s hands are in his own, trying his hardest to face his date head on despite the awkward angles that come with sitting side by side in a car. He does want to go, he’s been looking forward to prom for months. But not alone. He never wanted to go alone, that’s why Minho is here in the first place. That’s not how he wants to close out this chapter of his life, and it’s not going to help him start a new one. “I don’t want to go if I can’t go with _you_. You’re my date, I’m not just going to leave you.”

Minho smiles shyly at that, like he’s trying to hold back because it’s not the right occasion, but Jisung knows what every twitch of his lips means by this point in their lives. “I left my date.”

“Well, she wasn’t me,” Jisung jokes, showing off a winning smile. “You wouldn’t leave me.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t leave you,” Minho agrees. Jisung pulls one hand back, reaching for his phone to pass on the information to the group chat. “It’s gonna be a long wait though.”

“We’ll be fine,” Jisung says calmly. “I’m sure we can figure out something to do for fifty minutes.”

“I think I can still turn the radio on,” Minho says, flipping his key only halfway in the ignition. Sure enough an upbeat song comes on, a heavy contrast to the dark rain outside and the melancholy mood inside the car. “So that’s something.”

“Ha. If only the car were a little more spacious, we could still dance,” Jisung jokes. He bobs his head up and down absentmindedly to the music, unsure if he’s quite ready to be the moodmaker he usually strives to be around friends. 

“We could play a game,” Minho suggests.

“What game?”

“Raindrop racing.”

“That’s not a real game.”

“It could be,” he insists. “We both claim one of the water droplets going down the windshield and see whose reaches the bottom first.”

“Minho, it’s like, pouring rain,” Jisung laughs. “They’re all gone before we can see them.”

“It’s not _that_ bad. It’s getting slower.”

“There’s gotta be something else.”

“We can talk about how the hell I’m supposed to get home tomorrow?” Minho suggests.

“If it keeps raining, you can probably swim.”

“If the rain freezes over I can ice skate.”

“It’s June.”

“Yeah,” Minho sighs. “But it’d be more fun. Walking is going to take way too long, I’ll miss my finals.”

“I could drive you,” Jisung suggests.

“You don’t have a car. And you’re scared to drive. I bet I’ll end up driving you to and from school next year.”

“My parents will probably drive me there. Gotta haul the dorm stuff around.”

“Yeah, but for breaks and stuff,” Minho says.

“Are you coming home for breaks next year?”

“I guess. I’m not really sure. You think I should?”

“Yeah, of course you should. In case I don’t actually get in, so I don’t have to go so long without seeing you again,” Jisung says quietly. “That sucked.”

“Jisung, I swear, you gotta stop-”

Minho is cut off by the loud, unmistakable sound of an incoming video call. _His phone_ , Jisung realizes as his lap lights up. He flips it over to see Hyunjin’s profile photo pop up, a picture of them as kids covered head to toe in mud. He glances at Minho, a silent request for permission to answer, and does so when he gets a nod in return. 

“Hello?”

“Jisung! Is Minho there?”

“Where the hell else would I be?” Minho chimes in, flipping the phone to face him and sticking his tongue out at Hyunjin.

“Well I was going to express my condolences that you’re in a shitty situation, but now I’m not so sure. Maybe it’s karma,” Hyunjin mocks back.

“Karma for what?” Jisung cries out. 

“I’m sure you’ve done something. Anyway, it kind of sounds like you might not make it.”

“It’s looking that way,” Minho says quietly with a nod.

“Right. So I figured I’d offer a tour. If you want it?”

Minho glances nervously at Jisung, clearly a little on-edge and cautious of the other’s emotions at the moment. “I’m not sure-”

“Please. I’d like to see it while it’s going, at least,” Jisung requests. Minho still looks concerned, but nods. 

“Show us the thing.”

“Ok!” Hyunjin says, flipping the phone from his face to the back view. He shows a ballroom, somewhat dated in its architecture, decorated in tasteful balloon arrangements and ribbons representing their school colors. Students bustle by, looking incredible for the most part aside from a few questionable fashion choices and some hairstyles ruined by the rain. “So this is the entrance. And here’s our banquet table,” he continues, pointing the camera towards a table where Felix and Seungmin are chatting enthusiastically and Jeongin is waving at the camera. 

“Tell the decorating duo over there they did a nice job,” Jisung says, heart sinking a little not being able to congratulate them himself. Jeongin and Seungmin worked hard on this dance, he knows they put in a lot of free time to make the night special for everyone. 

“Will do. Shall we go to the buffet?” Hyunjin asks, already taking them away from the others. Jeongin seems to have run to join them, providing extra commentary as Hyunjin tours them around to different areas. It’s fun, for the most part, and he’s glad he’s at least seeing what he’s been waiting for as it happens. 

But Jisung’s stomach drops when Hyunjin shows them the dance floor. Something about that image, couples shuffling close together and moving in time to the generic pop music picked out by a budget DJ, makes him realize how much he wishes he were there to do the same with Minho. He tries to laugh along with his friends, poke fun when the song changes to something that’s been outdated for two years, but it gets harder and harder to keep up the facade of being unbothered. 

“Hyunjinnie, thanks for the tour, but my phone is dying,” Minho says, pulling the device out of Jisung’s hand. 

“I called Jisung’s phone.”

“I’ll text you when the tow-truck comes,” Minho says. Jisung peers at him curiously, wondering what his plan is.

“Ok, fine,” Hyunjin sighs. “Bye Jisung. Don’t be too sad, ok?”

“I’m not.”

“Bye Hyunjin,” Minho says genuinely, smiling gratefully before ending the call. Within moments he’s got a hand on Jisung’s shoulder, massaging it gently in soothing motions. “Are you ok?”

“Of course. Why do you ask?”

“Because you look like you’re going to cry,” Minho says, a sad smile on his lips. “Which is fine. If you have to. Or want to.”

“I…” Jisung starts, unsure how to continue. The acknowledgement makes him more aware of the weight hanging over him, the slump of his shoulders and the burning sensation behind his eyes. “I just… this sucks.”

“It sucks.”

“I wanted to dance,” he sniffles, aware that he may be about to lose control.

“I wanted to dance too,” Minho says. He moves his hand down Jisung’s arm, running it over the smooth fabric of his suit until their hands touch and their fingers intertwine in reflex. 

“And I’ll never get a chance to go to prom with my friends again,” Jisung continues. His eyes are watering now, and he uses his free hand to blot the tears away before his makeup starts to run.

“Aw, it’s ok. There’s tons of other things you can do with them.”

“But those things aren’t prom.”

“No, they’re not.” They sit in silence for a moment, Minho rubbing soothing circles onto the back of his hand while Jisung tries to control the waterworks. He’s not a baby, he shouldn’t be _crying_ over something like this. He tilts his head back, willing the tears to stay inside his head, and inhales deeply. “I’m sorry,” Minho says quietly. “I’m not that good at comforting people.”

“The decorations looked really nice,” Jisung finally says, voice incrementally more steady than before. It shouldn’t be on Minho to make him feel better, especially since they’re in the same situation. “And the dance floor.”

“They did,” Minho agrees. They’re quiet for a little longer before he speaks up again. “We can still dance, if you really want to.”

“I’m not sure how,” Jisung replies, a sad laugh escaping his lips.

“No, really. ” Minho says, gesturing at the radio. “See? We have music. We can dance.”

“We’re stuck in a car, though.”

“I’ll turn it up.”

“It’s raining,” Jisung protests, looking outside. The downpour has lessened slightly, but they’ll still be absolutely soaked if they spend more than thirty seconds outside. “We’ll get soaked.”

“We can use my umbrella.”

“It’s not that big.”

“So then dance close,” Minho says, pulling the umbrella from where he’d tossed it in the back seat and putting a hand on his door handle. “My stupid car ruined your prom, don’t you at least want to put your night to good use and dance?”

Jisung sighs, pulling his hand from the remainder of the grip Minho has on it. They’ll be going home afterwards anyway, and sitting in the car trying to fight back tears doesn’t seem like that much better of an option. “Fine, let’s dance,” Jisung says, giving Minho the most convincing grin he can before opening his door. “But you have to come retrieve me with the umbrella.”

“On my way, sir,” Minho says, turning up the radio as loud as it can go before exiting the vehicle, opening his umbrella, and coming to escort Jisung out. He has to press up tight to Minho to stay under the cover (not that he minds) as they move to a spot on the side of the road just in front of the car. 

“So, who’s leading?” 

“Well, if I lead, you have to hold the umbrella.”

“What? Why?” Jisung asks with a pout.

“Because I need both arms to lead, you big baby,” Minho responds, shoving the handle into Jisung’s grip. “So hold the umbrella.”

“Worst date ever.”

“Maybe so.”

That’s a lie, and they both know it. It’s obvious, especially with the spark Jisung feels when Minho lays one hand on the small of his back and the other on his shoulder to keep him close; with the way his troubles start to melt away as they move at a medium pace to some punk rock song playing on the radio. It’s not really formal dancing music, more suited for jumping up and down in a mosh pit, but it’s hard to care when his eyes meet Minho’s and he finally pushes a genuine smile out, glad to experience even this.

“You really will be ok, you know,” Minho says, spinning them around as the bridge of the song kicks up. “Don’t worry so much.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

Jisung wants to say more, ask more, figure out how Minho seems to be so sure, but the questions are swept away by a gust of wind bursting through the sky. “Holy shit! Oh my god,” Jisung laughs, shocked. He feels rain start to fall on his head and looks up, only to start laughing even more. “Of course.”

“My umbrella,” Minho whines, looking up with him. It’s completely inside out, ruined by the gust of wind as it catches water and starts to flood. “Come on. My car already broke, why this too?”

“Must be the theme of the night,” Jisung laughs. He’s pretty much completely soaked already, as is Minho, hair hanging in their faces and suits getting progressively wetter. It’s hard to be upset anymore when all he can focus on is the water running down his face and Minho holding him close. This is far from how he expected the evening to go. He leans away for a moment to lay the umbrella on the hood of Minho’s car, now useless to them, and comes back even closer to Minho as the song shifts to something gentle and new. 

“I didn’t think we’d get this wet,” Minho says, rocking Jisung back and forth slowly as they dance, spinning them around softly. Jisung lays his cheek on Minho’s shoulder and tries to ignore the rain, instead focusing on what little heat there lay against his face and the soft swell of the music. 

“I don’t care, it’s still nice.”

“You cared a few minutes ago,” Minho chuckles softly.

“Yeah, well, it’s too late now. At least I get to dance with you,” Jisung says. His filter is coming down, washed away by the rainfall and the rollercoaster of emotions he’s been on tonight. Right now he’s just at peace. He watches the sky as they move around, sees the clouds move north just enough to expose a first quarter moon. What had Felix told him that meant?

“We can dance whenever next year, ok? As long as it’s drier than this.”

Ah, yes. 

_A first quarter moon signals the time to make decisions._

“Oh really? You gonna take me on another date?”

Jisung feels Minho stiffen his hold for a moment, feels his breath stutter, could almost swear he can hear the way Minho’s heart beats faster pressed against him. But then he relaxes, and Jisung is pulled even closer, nearly nose to nose as they had been the night before last as he pulls his head from Minho’s shoulder and faces him head on.

“Jisung?”

“Yes?” he answers meekly, trying to find some meaning in Minho’s eyes. He seems to be doing the same with Jisung, curious and intense as they bare into his soul.

“What do you want me to say to that?”

_What does he want?_ He wants Minho, he thinks. Is nearly positive. He’s always wanted Minho, in his life and as his friend, but Jisung wants him in a new way now. Something different. He wants dates, and cuddles, and long drives home from school as they hold hands and talk. 

“I just… you know, everything is different. Or about to be. Things are ending and it’s different. With school, and my friends, and everything. And…” Jisung scrambles for words, an eloquent way to convey what he’s been feeling these past two days. Hell, what he’s probably been feeling the past year. “I just think maybe things between us are different too.”

“What, you don’t like me anymore?” Minho teases, putting on a smile that doesn’t quite match his eyes. “You ending me too?”

“No, I like you,” Jisung says with a soft laugh. “I’ll always like you. But that’s what I’m trying to say. It’s different now, I think.” 

Minho stops moving as the song changes, an acoustic indie song taking over the radio. His gaze wanders, and he takes his hand off Jisung’s shoulder to weave his fingers through sopping wet bangs and push them back. 

“Yeah,” he responds, soft as can be. “Yeah, I think I know exactly what you mean.”

“Is that weird? After eighteen years?”

“I don’t know. It might be weird. Does it matter?” Minho asks. Jisung thinks about that, mimicking Minho’s position by pushing the bangs off his face, then tracing his fingers down his cheek to his jaw. It probably is weird, to suddenly change the way he looks at his best friend of eighteen years. But it probably wasn’t all that sudden, either. And people probably don’t do this often, but do other people really matter when Minho is here, and he cares enough to drive hours upon hours in a car that was clearly on it’s last leg and dance with Jisung in the pouring rain just because he doesn’t want to miss out?

“I don’t think so. I want to try something, just to be sure,” Jisung says, finally letting his eyes drift down to his best friend’s lips. Minho doesn’t miss it, but he doesn’t comment either; instead, he leans in. Closer and closer, it nearly feels like slow motion, like Jisung can feel each raindrop running down his face as Minho’s lips near his, feels the way they’re knocked off his nose when Minho leans left and he leans right, feel them splatter when Minho’s mouth melts onto his own. It’s quick, his very first kiss with Minho, and almost as soon as the warmth takes over his lips it’s gone. 

Jisung doesn’t want it to be gone.

So he leans back in, gives Minho another peck before pulling away, then another, awkward and cautious until he can help but pull back a little bit more and giggle. 

“What? Too weird?” Minho asks, his grip on Jisung iron strong. 

“Not weird,” Jisung breathes out, the words mixed with laughter as he leaves his tongue. “No, sorry, it’s not weird or funny, just… surreal? Maybe surreal.”

Minho leans in again, sealing their lips together in a more definitive way, stealing the smile right off Jisung’s face and replacing it with something strong and intoxicating. “It’s real,” he says firmly.

“Yeah, I know. Real date, real kiss, real feelings. I’m getting that now,” Jisung says, head spinning as he resists the urge to lean right back in for more. He feels like he’s flying, he can’t believe how much weight has left his chest and how good Minho’s lips feel on his own. The rain soaking through him and weighing down his clothes just might be the only thing left keeping him grounded as Minho kisses him again.

They don’t pull away from each other again, not for a good long while, and that’s perfect. When water leaks in, rolling off Jisung’s nose and onto the curve of his lip, Minho doesn’t even think twice before licking it away. God, does that open up a whole world of opportunities Jisung never knew existed. He’s kissed people, sure. Chaste pecks for spin the bottle or a dare to kiss Felix for five seconds on a friday night. Never anything like this. Never anything with passion, never anything with tongue, and certainly nothing that gives him the same heart-fluttering feeling as Minho nibbling his bottom lip and licking over the mark. 

Jisung feels his hold on Minho grow possessive and desperate, water ringing out when he clutches the jacket of his suit too hard. That seems to be the thing that snaps them out of their rhythm, Minho pulling away slowly to stare into his eyes with a look of satisfaction. “Slow down, we’re not going anywhere,” he says, a smirk taking over his kiss-swollen lips.

“I’m very aware of that, thank you,” Jisung shoots back, releasing his grip on Minho’s back just enough to take half a step back and look at him comfortably. “Thanks to Nelson.”

“I’m not that mad at him anymore,” Minho laughs.

“Me neither.”

“Oh really? What’s your reason?”

“Well,” Jisung starts, wondering how to phrase things. He’s not really inclined to be subtle anymore, not when he’d just spend the past several minutes making out with his best friend. “You probably wouldn’t have kissed me like that in the middle of a crowd.”

“I would have.” 

“What?”

“I would have,” Minho repeats. “If you’d looked at me and told me you had feelings for me, or _might_ have feelings for me, I would have kissed you. Even in the middle of a crowd. Even in the rain. If we were in outer space I’d take off my helmet and kiss you.”

“You’d die,” Jisung giggles. 

“At least I’d die having kissed you. Do you know how long I’ve wanted to kiss you?” Minho asks, leaning in the press a chaste peck to his cheek. “You don’t, do you?”

“I- How long have you wanted to kiss me?!” Jisung asks, shocked. Maybe in his subconscious he’s wanted Minho for a while, but he’s only had these unspeakable urges for the past few days since he’s been home. So what has Minho been hiding?

“Oh my god, at least a year? Probably since the start of last summer,” Minho replies. “You really didn’t notice? You seemed kind of like… not to be cocky, but you kind of stared me down all summer.”

“I thought you just got hot!”

“I did get hot.”

“You’re stupid,” Jisung huffs out. 

“Is that why you like me so much?”

“Oh my god, you- mm,” Jisung is cut off by Minho’s lips on his once again, short and exaggerated as he kisses him quiet. When he pulls away, Jisung is left with a pout. “You can’t just keep doing that.”

“I don’t see why not,” Minho sing-songs. Jisung has a million things running through his mind; _what does this mean for them? What happens when Minho goes back to school? What if he doesn’t get into JYPU, will they date long distance? Even if he does, will they date at all?_

He doesn’t get to ask, instead interrupted by an ungodly bright set of headlights streaming through the rain as a tow-truck pulls up next to them. 

“Are you the ones who need a tow?” the driver asks after rolling his window down. He looks tired and gruff, but has kind eyes and a wholesome smile. 

“Yeah, my engine died or something. I don’t know the terms, I’m sorry.”

“I’m just here to tow you to the mechanic, they’ll tell you what happened in the morning. You two have someone coming to pick you up?” he asks.

“Oh- no, I didn’t realize… Shit, I’ll call an uber or something,” Minho says, scrambling for his phone.

“I can give you a lift to the shop, let’s just get this thing hooked up and then you can climb into the cab,” he says, pulling up in front of the car once Minho and Jisung make a clearing. They try to help him as much as they can, but he mostly just shoos them away when it’s clear that the boys have no idea what they’re doing. The ride to the local repair shop is relatively quiet, Minho and Jisung pressing close together in the back of the cab and shivering as their soaked suits cement onto their body. Ten minutes in, Minho lets his head drop onto Jisung’s shoulder, and it’s impossible to resist the urge to press his nose into the other boy’s hair and press a quiet kiss to his crown. The laugh Minho suppresses and breathes out through his nose is enough to make him want to do it again and again.

With the car dropped off, keys deposited into the repair shop's lockbox, and a ride home from Jisung’s mother (who seems almost as disappointed he missed prom as the couple themselves), they find themselves in Jisung’s driveway. 

“Hey mom,” Jisung says, leaning from the back seat so he can perch himself on the center armrest. “I think I’m gonna go to Minho’s.”

“Don’t you want a change of clothes?”

“I’ll borrow his. Can I borrow yours?” 

“You can borrow whatever my mom hasn’t tossed,” Minho replies with a laugh. “I’m sure I’ve got something.”

“Ok. Well, just come home in the morning, sweetie. Please take showers,” His mother says, giving him a quick pinch on the cheek. 

“Yeah, will do. Love you!” Jisung says, hopping out of the car and running to Minho’s porch. His date runs after him, grabbing keys from his pocket to let them in as they shed their jackets and hold them outside the door to wring them as dry as possible. 

“Mom!” Minho calls out, toeing off his shoes while Jisung follows. He finds his mother sitting on the living room couch, father knocked out on the recliner beside it. “Hi,” he whispers, trying not to wake the older man up, “I think Jisung is going to spend the night, ok?”

“Of course that’s fine, but why are you home?”

“Car broke down. I’m going to talk to the mechanic tomorrow.”

“How are you going to get back to school?”

“Magic carpet?” Minho tries. His mom laughs before bringing back a serious expression.

“I’m not driving you just because you didn’t get your normal maintenance done,” she scolds. “I’m too old.”

“I got my maintenance done! Can we talk tomorrow, our guest is soaking wet.”

“Jisung, why didn’t you tell him to get his maintenance done? This is your fault, too,” she says, smiling eyes giving away her strict act. 

“I’m sorry, I thought since he was an adult he could handle his affairs. I see now that was foolish,” Jisung responds seriously, placing a hand on Minho’s shoulder and bowing deeply. “I’ll do better in the future.”

“Thank you. Ok, please stop leaking water all over my carpet now. Go shower!”

“Yes, mam!” Minho and Jisung call in unison before running up the stairs and into Minho’s childhood bedroom. Jisung runs in first, stopping just past the doorway to look around at the barren room. 

“Woah.”

“Woah, what?” Minho asks, sliding his hands around Jisung’s waist and gently moving him forward, left cheek pressed to Jisung’s right as they meld together. 

“Woah, it’s empty,” Jisung breathes out, trying to keep his heartbeat steady. Is this how Minho is in a relationship? Or whatever they’re in? Clingy and touchy and lovey-dovey in a way that’s going to make him lightheaded every time they’re close? “It’s not usually this empty, right? I’m not going crazy?”

“No, it wasn’t this empty over the summer cuz I had my stuff here. Now it’s all at the school apartment,” Minho says. 

“You didn’t want to hang your dance team medals in the new apartment?” Jisung asks with a laugh, pointing to a hook with a few gold and silver awards hanging from it.

“And make my roommates jealous?”

“Exactly.”

“Maybe next year,” Minho says quietly. “You’re soaked. You should shower.” 

The older boy steps away, leaving Jisung’s back cold and uncomfortable and overwhelmingly… empty. He comes back into the room a moment later, tossing a fluffy towel over Jisung’s head and taking the other for himself. Jisung watches in despair and Minho goes to his bed and starts unbuttoning his shirt, screeching when he starts to reach for the fly of his pants. “Hey! Pervert, I’m still in here, can you have a little shame?” Minho looks up, surprised, and drapes the towel over his shoulders. 

“I thought you liked me for my body,” he says, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. “What’s the problem?”

“The problem… I… You… You! You have no shame! Just because we… whatever. Doesn’t mean I want to see you naked.”

“Oh?”

“Well… Not yet, at least,” Jisung says, a flush coming to his cheeks. Minho cackles loudly at that, walking up to Jisung and pushing him towards the door after planting a quick peck on his cheek. “Hey, what are you doing?”

“Go shower and you don’t have to see me naked, but I’m not waiting here in soaking wet clothes while you do,” he chuckles.

“Fine.” Jisung walks down the hall to the familiar master bathroom, turning the water to scalding before stepping in and relishing in the warmth on his skin. Even the shower is different from what he remembers, his only choices for shampoo and conditioner floral-scented products that must belong to Minho’s mother or his fathers 3-in-1. He makes quick work of himself and towels off before realizing he doesn’t have a change of clothes, then sticks his head out the door. 

“Minho!” he calls down the hall, trying to stay quiet enough not to wake the parents downstairs. “Can you bring me clothes?”

“Whaaaat?” he hears shouted out from the room.

“Clothes! I need clothes!”

“Oh, clothes! Coming,” Minho shouts out, coming out the door a few moments later. He chucks a set of clothing towards Jisung and retreats to his room, allowing the other to dress in peace. 

It’s strange, Jisung thinks, seeing himself dressed in Minho’s old physical education tee shirt and a pair of shorts that must be just a bit too tight for the other to wear comfortably. This shirt used to hang off Minho’s scrawny shoulders, Jisung’s even more so, what with him being two years younger, but now it’s fitted and sits just right. They really have grown up.

When Minho takes over the shower, Jisung makes himself at home in his friend’s bed, like he’s done countless times before, and stares up at the ceiling. Little bits of adhesive remain from when glow-in-the-dark stars used to litter the room, and if he looks hard enough Jisung can almost swear he still sees some messy constellations grouped together. 

“Hey.” Jisung is risen from his thoughts by the creaking of a door, the dip of the mattress, and Minho’s gentle voice. “Room for me?”

“It’s your bed,” Jisung says, smiling when he feels the heat of Minho’s body settled beside him. He turns to look at him, still a little startled by the proximity, but resists the urge to lean in. “So, the dates over I guess?”

“I guess so. It didn’t last that long,” Minho sighs.

“It didn’t. Was fun while it did, though.”

“I think we made the best of it.”

“Hey, are we… Am I still allowed to kiss you? Even if the date is over and the suits are off and everything?” Jisung asks hesitantly. Minho looks surprised at the question, but his expression softens quickly into something that gives Jisung comfort.

“Why? You think I only like you when you have a suit on?”

“No, er, I don’t know. What are we gonna do? Because you have to go back to school in like a day, and I don’t really know how to do this? Like, are we… what are we?”

“Minho and Jisung.”

“No, but-”

“I know what you mean,” Minho interrupts with a laugh. “I know, I’m sorry, you’re just really flustered I couldn’t help it. Are you asking if we should date?”

“I guess so? But, you’re leaving-”

“I’ll be gone for two weeks and then I’m back for the summer. We’ve been apart for far longer than that and I still had feelings for you, I don’t think that’s what’s going to make or break things.”

“Oh,” Jisung says, gulping at the honesty that Minho is still able to maintain even now. “Well, jeez. You sound like you’re in love with me or something.” Jisung tries to put on his greasiest smile, let him know it’s a joke, but Minho just looks at him blankly. “What… stop looking at me like that. You’re not in love with me, are you? Because then I’m an asshole for not noticing my best friend is in love with me-”

“Oh my god, please shut up,” Minho says, quieting Jisung with a soft kiss. “I didn’t say that.”

“Oh,” Jisung responds. He can’t help be a little disappointed by the answer, even though if Minho said yes he’s sure he would have been scared shitless. “Ok, sorry, getting ahead of myself.”

“But-”

“But?”

“But I don’t think it would be that hard. To be in love with you. If I let myself.”

Jisung feels the heat creep to his cheeks, up his neck, onto his ears. This isn’t their normal thing, it’s far too raw and tender, and he’s not sure what to say. “I see,” he hears himself squeak out before burying himself into his pillow. He feels Minho move, log rolling until he’s laid flat atop Jisung’s back with his mouth pressed into his neck. “Are you embarrassed?” the older boy whispers, breath tickling the baby hairs that lay there.

“Yes.”

“Why, are you in love with me?”

“Not yet. Maybe soon,” Jisung mumbles into the cushion.

“Should we recreate the last prom we spent together? To take the edge off?”

“Hmm?” Jisung hums in question, turning his head to the side so he can glance at Minho from his peripheral. It shouldn’t surprise him how close their faces are, but the feeling of his best friend’s lips pressing onto his cheek doesn’t seem like it’s going to lose it’s novelty any time soon. “You’re killing me with that.”

“With kissing?”

“Yes. What do you mean by ‘recreate last prom?’” Jisung asks, rolling onto his back beneath Minho so they lay chest to chest.

“Cheap rum and video games,” Minho responds, a mischievous look in his eye.

“You have a secret stash of cheap rum in your luggage?”

“I’m of age now, I don’t need a secret stash. I can just go downstairs and grab some,” Minho says proudly. 

“Yeah, sure, if your mom wasn’t home or didn’t know I was here,” Jisung challenges. “You don’t have the balls to do that.”

“Wanna bet?”

“Absolutely. What do I get when I win?” Jisung asks. Minho looks thoughtfully to the side, lip between his teeth for a moment, before smiling big and bright.

“You get to be in a relationship with me.”

“And if I lose?” Jisung asks.

“You have to be in a relationship with me,” he responds. 

“Well, these are big stakes. Go get it,” Jisung laughs, patting Minho on the butt before gently pushing him up. He watches fondly as Minho walks out the door, perched up on his elbows with his head tilted back as he tries to sort out his thoughts. 

_How did he end up here?_

_Minho likes him._

_He likes Minho._

_And they’ve somehow, in the span of one night, agreed on a relationship?_

It’s all a lot to process. Before he can get too caught up in his thoughts, Minho returns with a bottle of liquor in one hand and a two-litre of Dr. Pepper in the other. 

“Wow, you actually did it?” Jisung asks.

“He did not,” Jisung hears called out, sitting up straight when Mrs. Lee pushes past Minho and into the room with two glasses in hand. “My son is very handsome, but not very sneaky. You really thought he could do this?”

“No, I bet against him,” Jisung says, gulping down his fear.

“Well, you’re smart. Here’s the deal,” she says, putting the glasses down on Minho’s old desk before clapping. “If you’re going to drink in my house, there are rules.”

“We don’t have to-” Minho starts to say, only to be cut off.

“We’re past that point.”

“Ok.”

“Jisung, you get one drink. You will not tell your mother until you are in your mid thirties. You will drink water before you sleep. These are my conditions.”

“Yes mam’,” Jisung barks back. 

“We can really just go without liquor, it’s not that big a deal,” Minho groans.

“That’s fine too, but Jisung is like my second son, so if he’s going to drink for the first time this is the best place to do it,” Mrs. Lee says. It makes Jisung burn with pride, even if the logic is a little bit off.

“I’ll be responsible, scout’s honor,” Jisung says, issuing his best salute.

“Thank you, Sungie,” Mrs. Lee responds with a grin. “Ok. I’m going to bed. Dad is still asleep downstairs, so if you go down there please be quiet.”

“Sure, mom,” Minho says quietly.

“Goodnight! Love you both!”

“Love you too!” Jisung answers cheerfully. Minho turns to him with a look of desperation, then to his mother. 

“Love you too, mom. Goodnight.”

She leaves and Minho pours them drinks, staying faithful to one per person. Minho could have more, he’s under no rules, but the fun was more about sneaking around than the actual drinking itself. With permission the game is somewhat ruined. 

“You two are ridiculous, by the way,” Minho says, arms wrapped around Jisung’s shoulders as they watch a movie, each halfway through their drinks. 

“Hmm? Who?”

“You and my mother,” Minho laughs. Jisung settles into him more, back pressed against his chest as he sits between Minho’s legs. 

“Our mother,” he giggles. 

“Yeah, sure, _our_ mother,” Minho says, placing a quick kiss, and then another, to the back of Jisung’s neck. It tickles, making Jisung laugh some more. He’s not drunk, just tipsy, but everything feels just a little more intense, just a little _more_ than normal. 

“It tickles,” he manages to get out between little pecks.

“Get used to it, I got the liquor. You’re stuck with me now,” Minho says quietly. Jisung can feel the smile against his neck, feels the one plastered to his own lips as well, but suddenly something crosses his mind. This is good. Things feel good. But what happens if it all goes away?

“Hey, Minho,” Jisung says, leaning in the older boy’s hold to place his glass on the nightstand. He spins in his hold, sitting on his knees to face Minho head on. 

“Jisung.”

“Have you thought about what happens if this… if we,” he says, pointing between the two of them, “don’t work? In a romantic way, I mean.”

“Jeez, Jisung, it’s been like three hours. Do we have to think about that?” Minho asks, leaning in for a kiss. Jisung returns it, almost lets himself get caught up, but the little voice in his head doesn’t let him.

“No, seriously,” he says, breaking away. “What happens?”

“Why are you asking this right now?”

“Well, for example. Your mom. Our families. We’re close, really close, she’s seriously like my second mom. I told her I wasn’t straight before my own mother. If we break up and get all nasty and hate each other, do I have to lose my second mom?” Jisung asks. “Does that make sense?”

“That won’t happen,” Minho says, jaw clenched firmly. “It could never.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want that either,” Jisung says, putting on his most soothing voice. “But there’s no guarantee we’re going to be as seamless a couple as we are as friends. What if I’m a bad boyfriend?”

“Jisung, I have known you your entire life,” Minho starts. “And for the record, I don’t think you’ll be a bad boyfriend. But if, _if_ you are, then we will figure it out. Regardless of the label, we are Minho and Jisung. And I want you to be my boyfriend. And if that doesn’t work, well, it will be something we tried our best at.”

“And then what would happen?”

“Then we would still be Minho and Jisung. We would be friends again, knowing we gave it a shot, and if there was some reason it didn’t work then at least we tried. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Oh,” Jisung says, the space behind his eyes burning. “Oh. Ok, I’m not either. Minho and Jisung,” he repeats.

“That’s us,” Minho says, a smile soft on his lips. He lays them down carefully after that, sensing that it’s time for the movie to be off and for them to get some rest. It’s been a long day, after all. Jisung spends the night tucked into Minho’s arms, foreheads pressed to foreheads, lips pressed to lips, hearts pressed to hearts as they fade into slumber.

The Day After Prom

Eighteen years of friendship and close proximity have been the perpetrators of many a sleepover between Jisung and Minho, but nothing could have quite prepared Jisung for the way his heart would race waking up wrapped up in his best friend like this. Best friend? _Boyfriend?_

“Hey, Minho,” Jisung whispers, wiggling in Minho’s arms to try to wake him gently. His eyelids flutter gently and nose scrunches cutely as he starts to come back to consciousness. 

“Hmmm?”

“It’s morning.”

“Hmm? Oh, morning,” Minho repeats, shuffling Jisung closer into his hold and digging his nose into his hair. “Wait, it’s morning.”

“Yeah, morning,” Jisung giggles, pressing a short kiss to the column of Minho’s neck. It’s still a little bit embarrassing, but god is it going to be a fun new way to torment Minho and make him flush red.

“It’s morning, and you’re still…” Minho trails off, putting a hand on either of Jisung’s shoulders and pushing him back to take a look at his face.

“I’m still?”

“With me,” Minho says quietly. Jisung laughs and cups his face, squishing it into something dumb and mishhapen. 

“You thought I’d change my mind? How could I deny this handsomeness?” he asks, moving his boyfriend’s cheeks around. 

“I thought- stop that. I thought it may have been a dream or something.”

“No dream, like you said, we’re stuck together,” Jisung says, finally leaning in to give Minho a peck on the lips. “Even though your breath tastes like garbage.”

“It’s morning,” Minho protests, rolling over to sit up and get out of bed. “Let me brush my teeth.”

“You got a spare for me?” Jisung asks.

“You live like thirty seconds away, I’m not wasting a toothbrush on you,” Minho calls back. “I’ll be right back.”

Jisung stretches and gets himself out of bed, feeling his suit to find it still slightly wet and digging through Minho’s closet for an old hoodie to borrow. They’re mostly small and raggedy, but he finds one that’s the right size and whose only flaw is a ketchup stain on the front and pulls it on for the time being. “You’re stealing my clothing now?” Minho asks upon returning to the room.

“Nothing new, I’ve always stolen your clothing,” Jisung says smugly. 

“Hmm, true. I have to go to the mechanic shop soon,” Minho says.

“Want me to come with?”

“You don’t have homework?”

“Not really, just studying. They went a little light on us for prom weekend,” Jisung responds. 

“Ok. Why don’t you go home and change, we can borrow my mom’s car to drive and get breakfast and then go see if Nelson is really dead?”

“God I hope he isn’t,” Jisung says, placing a hand over his heart. “He’s far too young to die.”

“He’s almost as old as you,” Minho laughs.

“I’m too young to die too. And too pretty,” Jisung says, framing his face with his hands.

“Uh-huh,” Minho deadpans. “You’ll be prettier if you go brush your teeth and change.”

“On it,” Jisung says, pulling Minho in for one quick peck on the cheek and running out the door with his suit in hand. He checks his phone as he darts down the stairs, seeing it’s only about nine in the morning, and tries to keep quiet as he unlocks his front door. It’s warm today, skies blue without a cloud in sight, and the only thing he has to watch out for are the giant mud puddles that have been formed by last night's rain. 

Inside he hears his father in the kitchen, pouring coffee by the sounds of things, and calls out a greeting before running upstairs. He hangs his suit and changes into his own clean clothing, then makes his way to the bathroom to brush his teeth. He’s glad he followed Mrs. Lee’s water drinking rule last night, the half-drink of alcohol he’d consumed not leaving a trace of itself as a hangover. In fact, looking in the mirror, he looks more alive than he ever has. There’s no question in his mind why. 

When Jisung gets downstairs to chat with his parents, they’re both sitting at the kitchen table, a large envelope sat in front of them. 

“Uh, good morning?” Jisung tries hesitantly, unsure what he’s done to deserve such a threatening stance this early. 

“Good morning,” Jisung’s mother parrots, sliding the envelope towards him and gesturing to a chair. “Guess what showed up last night?”

“No way,” Jisung whispers to himself, taking a seat and looking over the paper. Embossed on the top is the JYP University emblem, addressed to one Han Jisung. “It’s thick.”

“That’s a good thing,” his father says, giving him an encouraging smile. “Could be admission papers.”

“Or the longest letter of rejection ever,” Jisung grimaces.

“If you were rejected, they’d have told you that a long time ago. You’re wait-listed, I think this can only be good,” his mother says firmly. 

“You really think?”

“I do,” she confirms. Jisung picks the envelope up, weighing it in his hands. It’s heavy, too, and the paper is smooth and high-quality under his fingers. “I’m scared.”

“Don’t be scared, if it’s anything bad, at least you’ll finally know,” his father says. Jisung nods and tears the top, reaching in to pull the packet out before stopping himself. 

This is it. If it says yes, he gets to go to his dream school, study away from home, be back with Minho. If it says anything else, he’s shit out of luck. 

“I think,” Jisung says hesitantly, hoping he won’t step on any toes. “I just think maybe, since Minho goes there, he’ll be good… support? Do you mind if I don’t open these here? He opened his letter with me.”

“You want to open it with Minho?” Jisung’s mother repeats. Jisung nods meekly, putting the envelope back down. After last night, Minho deserves to know just as much as him. 

“Yeah. Is that ok?”

“Well, can you do it soon? I want to know too, you’re my son!” 

“I’ll do it now!” Jisung says, standing up from the table and grabbing the papers. “Right now. And I’ll let you know as soon as I do!”

“You’ve got this,” his father says. Jisung nods again, walking at a controlled pace towards his front door and stopping for nothing before darting outside and down the sidewalk, taking a slightly longer route to Minho’s porch to avoid the muddy lawn. He knocks on the door, relieved when Minho is the one to answer it and step outside. 

“Hey, you… you don’t have shoes on again! Jesus, Jisung, I really-”

“Look what came,” Jisung interrupts, holding the packet in front of Minho’s face. 

“What the- JYPU? What did they say? You got in?” Minho asks excitedly.

“I haven’t opened it yet.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“I wanted to open it with you,” Jisung says, a nervous grin taking over his face. “Please? I need help.”

“If you can’t open an envelope, I don’t see how you’ll succeed in college,” Minho says, eyebrows raised jokingly.

“Oh, come on. I can open an envelope-”

“Then open it, Jisung. It’s ok. We’ll be fine either way,” he says softly. Jisung inhales deeply and pulls the packet out of the envelope, handing the empty paper over to Minho. He flips the lettering towards himself, finally gaining the courage to look down and read. 

“ _Dear Han Jisung. We are pleased to-_ OH MY GOD!”

“THEY ARE PLEASED TO WHAT?”

“ _We are pleased to tell you that a spot at the prestigious JYP University has opened up in your name should you choose to take it-_ Minho, oh my god! Oh my god!” 

“I told you!” Minho shouts, closing the door all the way behind him and pulling Jisung into a hug. Jisung pulls away briefly to place the packet down on the stoop, then wraps his arms around Minho again. 

“I know you told me, but oh my GOD, I got in!” Jisung shouts back, leaning back so he can look at Minho and leaning in to press their lips together without thinking twice. Minho smiles into it, lowering his grip on Jisung so he can lift him off the ground and walk them down the porch to move freely. Jisung laughs as he feels Minho spin them round, all while pressing thousands of tiny little kisses to his cheeks, his nose, his lips. He can’t suppress his whooping and laughter as he lets himself be smothered, only stopping it to give the same to Minho. 

“We’re going to be in the same school,” he mumbles into his boyfriend’s lips.

“I know,” Minho mumbles back.

“No long distance.”

“We can have movie nights whenever we want. On my comfy couch.”

“Is that couch available to crash on?” Jisung asks.

“Yeah, but so is my bed,” Minho whispers.

“Hey, what’s all the screaming- Oh!” A shrill voice calls out, startling the two into pulling away. 

“Mom!” Jisung gasps, quickly freeing himself from Minho’s hold. “Ah, hi! I got in!”

“Well that’s wonderful, dear! I told you it would be good news!” his mother calls out, walking closer towards them while staying on the sidewalk. “Anything else?”

“Oh, um-” Jisung stutters. He looks at the position he and Minho are in now, thinks of the one they were probably in when his mother first saw them. There’s really no use lying. “I think- Er, I know, uh-”

“I finally convinced Jisung to date me,” Minho cuts in. 

“Oh good! This is incredible,” Mrs. Han cheers out, clapping and bouncing on her toes. “Finally, I can claim Minho as my third son!”

“We’re not engaged, mom!” Jisung cries out.

“Oh please, you will be. Minho, you let your mom know she owes me a bottle of wine. Actually, I’ll text her, don’t worry about it,” she says, retreating back into their house. 

“Did my mother know you had a thing for me?” Jisung asks, looking at Minho in shock. 

“I think she assumed as such,” Minho admits. “Actually, I know she did. She called me once to ask about it.”

“What? You’re kidding! When?”

“Right after you came out to her. She called and asked if I was the reason,” Minho says with a chuckle.

“But- but that was over a year and a half ago!”

“I know, baby,” Minho coos, kissing him on the lips sweetly. “Must have been mother’s intuition. She knew I’d be useless to anyone else.”

“I love you,” Jisung blurts out. “I mean, not like- we talked last night, so I don’t mean I’m in love with you, or not yet, or whatever. But I love you, as my best friend of eighteen years. I’m really glad we get to go to school together.”

There’s shock on Minho’s face and a blush crawling up his neck, but when he regains himself he smiles so wide his eyes become crescent moons, just like the one he’d laid his faith in three nights before. Jisung intends to hold onto the relationship as long as he possibly can. 

“Well, as your best friend of eighteen years, I love you too. The first two without you were ever so boring. And as your boyfriend, I couldn’t be more excited to fall in love with you.”

“That’s cheesy.”

“It is. Go put some shoes on and come with me on our first breakfast date, then we’ll see what we can do about this car,” Minho laughs.

* * *

**104 Days After Prom**

104 days after Han Jisung’s senior prom, on his nineteenth birthday, he sits on a comfortable couch in a 2-bedroom college apartment, wrapped in the arms of Lee Minho. Maybe this is the start of their true new chapter, because as he looks into his boyfriend’s eyes, Han Jisung is undeniably in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on socials  
> Writing twitter: @ao3Koto  
> Personal twitter: @0hrhj0  
> CC: @koto16
> 
> And leave comments if you have them because they bring me absolute joy!  
> I love you

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on socials  
> Writing twitter: @ao3Koto  
> Personal twitter: @0hrhj0  
> CC: @koto16
> 
> I love you


End file.
